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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28322400">Nuclear Option</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/damadamascus/pseuds/blurayfriend'>blurayfriend (damadamascus)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>HLVRAI - Fandom, Half-Life VR but the AI is Self-Aware - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blow Jobs, Boundaries, Crying, Depression, Drinking, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Hair-pulling, Hallucinations, Intervention, M/M, Making Out, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Harm, Sex, Shotgunning, Sleep Paralysis, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:07:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,628</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28322400</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/damadamascus/pseuds/blurayfriend</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Noun; the most drastic or extreme response possible to a particular situation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gordon's not doing well, after Black Mesa. Nobody else seems to notice. <br/>But Benrey does.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Benrey/Gordon Freeman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>237</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. everyone's fucked and they don't even know</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I am Nervous to post this, my first chapter fic in a while, first HLVRAI chapter fic ever, but uh... posting it anyway, clearly. Not rated as I'm still kind of plotting out how far I'm going to take this with Gordon and friend Benrey. Expect, at the very least, some nsfw language and mentions.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After the resonance cascade, everything had gone kind of normal. Boring. Sure, Black Mesa had been like, shut down, hundreds dead, burn it down and start again, but everything since then was so mundane, it hurt. Benrey got a new job right away, security guy, another facility, another day another dollar, new uniform but same old Benny friend. Tommy was taking some time off to "watch tv with Sunkist" and as far as he had heard, the old dudes were on a vacay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was like, normal, cool, whatever, except for Gordon. Gordon was all weird about everything, all like uhhhh post traumatized stressy boy, and had holed up in his apartment by himself since they had got out. Like, get over it? Bro. Come over and play games, Benrey would say, and he would know Gordon had got the message through PSN, cause he was online all the time, but he wouldn't respond. And so Benrey's messages would just pile up like bodies, so many bodies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumb Gordon. Stupid, uh, idiot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"you wanna play street fighter with me so bad it makes you look stupid" Benrey sent him, and the message was read but never replied to. Which was cool, chill, he felt a good it was whatever, but like. Worrying. Why wasn't buddy Gordon talking to him? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"bro respond or im gonna getcha" Benrey warned him one day, and again, Gordon read the message and sent no reply. Fucking annoying! Just say something!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, on a Friday after work, Benrey had had enough. He went directly from work to Gordon's apartment, stomped up four flights of stairs, and hammered on Gordon's door for like, twenty minutes. No response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I know you're in there," he yelled through the door, unsure of why he was even so irritated. Just mad. Benrey, uh, Benrey Angerman!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard movement in the apartment, but Gordon was ignoring him. Well, fuck it then. He had tried to play nice, but if Gordon wanted him to be bad then he would be bad. With no effort at all, Benrey slipped right through the door, noclipping into Gordon's gross little kitchen, Doordash bags on every available surface. Dude, gross. Why he gotta eat so much anyway?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey drifted through Gordon's kitchen, careful not to make a sound, and peeked around the corner into the living room. The blinds were all closed, but the tv was on, casting blue light over everything. Gordon was logged into PSN, just sitting on the messages screen, doing nothing. What the hell? He just sit around all day, waiting for Benrey to log on and threaten him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Probably.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a lump of blankets and takeout trash on the couch, which moved when Benrey stepped fully into the living room. Gordon lifted his head, his curly lil mullet just an absolute mess, and started at Benrey all like, whuh, what's happening, how did friend Benny get here?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You wanna explain yourself? Idiot?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Benrey?" Gordon said, like a dumbass. He grabbed his glasses off the coffee table, put em on. "How did you get in here?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Buhhh how did Benrey get in here I dunno doofus through the DOOR?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's locked!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, so what. What the hell are you doing?" Benrey put a hand on his hip, cocked his pelvis to the side. Security buddy stance. "You, uh, you been not responding. For weeks. Thought you maybe died and rats were playing your PS3. And eating you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon sat up slowly, disrupting the pile of garbage atop him. Most of a burger slid off the blanket mound and plapped dryly on the carpet. He looked like shit. Like, all crusty and nasty and like, sad. Real sad guy. All, uh, boohoo wah.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon didn't say anything, just rubbed his eyes under his glasses. Real red, puffy eyes. Like he'd been toking up or something. And all like, tired looking. Dark bags under his lower lids, looking like a dead guy or something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You good?" Benrey asked, now standing rather awkwardly at the end of the couch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon sighed, a long, tired sound. "Yes?" Benrey prodded. "You, uh, feeling ok?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No," Gordon said softly. "Not… not really. Not at all."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Kay," Benrey said. "Kay. Uh, cool. Not cool though, bro, leaving me on read." He kicked his shiny new black boot against the carpet. "Making friend Benrey wonder. Not real nice of you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sorry," Gordon mumbled, but he didn't sound sorry. Sounded like he was barely listening. It was making Benrey mad, seeing him like this. All fuckin, uh, defeated, like they hadn't made it out alive, the victors of the Black Mesa disaster. Winners of the game.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Fuckin," Benrey muttered, and then found he had nothing to follow it up with. He kicked the floor burger across the room, where it hit the wall and left a mess. Gordon just kinda looked at it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was creeping him out, honestly. All that radio silence, no response, messages on read, and now he was acting all weird. Not himself. Not there. A husk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I don't get it," Benrey sighed, walking back into the kitchen. He opened the fridge. Empty. Jug full of chunky milk in the back. Turned on the water, ran it for a minute to let it get cold, found an empty Borger Kong cup and filled it up. Brought it back to Gordon and shoved it at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What," Gordon said, looking up at him. At least he was fully sitting up now, feet on the floor. Bare feet, toesie woesies. Benrey stared at them until Gordon started to squirm, uncomfortable. Good. That was something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Drink," Benrey said. A direct order. "Get some, uh, hydration. Make you feel better."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon took the plastic cup and sipped at it, made a face. Benrey hadn't rinsed out the soda first. He sipped it again, then chugged, throat bobbing. Benrey watched him the whole time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You sick?" Benrey asked. "Do you feel better?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No," Gordon said, not indicating which question he was responding to. Maybe both. "I'm just… tired."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well wake up, sleepy head," Benrey teased, but got no response. "What's wrong? You wanna play a game with friend Benrey? Maybe, uh, maybe a kiss make you feel better? Kiss your owie? You wanna?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Benrey," Gordon snapped, sounding irritated. GOOD, Benrey thought. That was more normal. More like the Gordon from before. But Gordon followed up with nothing, just hung his head. Benrey was at a loss. Was he broken? Needed a reboot? He watched as Gordon let the cup slip from his hand, splashing the last little bit of water on his carpet and feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're… ugh, you're making friend Benrey feel all… mad? For you? Why, why are you doing that," Benrey demanded. "Why are you fucked up, not even any issues here, just you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You don't get it," Gordon sighed. More like a breathy laugh. "You don't FUCKING get it Benrey, you never will."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What the hell," Benrey said with a scowl. "Why're you mad at me? What did I do?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Just leave me alone," Gordon groaned, hanging his head. "I wanna be alone."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Too bad SO sad, sucks to suck. Boohoo. Get up."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Fuck off."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, nuh uh. Up." Benrey grabbed into Gordon's arm. Gordon tensed up, refusing to stand, but Benrey was strong, strong guy, big muscle under his cool new uniform, and Gordon was no match.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Benrey," Gordon said, sounding just tired.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You smell like, uh, old T Bell, Gordo," Benrey informed him. "Stinky. You been brushing? No," he decided, as he led Gordon into the bathroom. "Gotta brush. Gonna get, uh, root canaaaaaallll."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shoved Gordon down on the toilet lid, grabbed his bone dry toothbrush and ran it under the water a second. Squeezed a biiiiiig, big glob of Colgate on there and turned back to Gordon. "Open up. Gordon Teethman."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon did as he was told, all the fight gone from his eyes. Benrey slid the toothbrush onto his mouth, willfully ignoring the way that all his j/o fantasies flashed through his head at once. He hooked his thumb into the side of Gordon's mouth, moving his cheek meat out of the way, and scrubbed at his teeth for a solid four minutes as toothpaste bubbles gathered in Gordon's messy facial hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"BETTER," Benrey announced, doing a lil chefs kiss at his handiwork. "Feel better?" Gordon shrugged and spat. "Okay, well, I got more tricks up my sleeve. Arms up." Gordon didn't respond at first, but as Benrey lifted the hem of his filthy t-shirt, he raised his arms to help. Getting his pants off took a second, and Benrey didn't bother looking politely away, just took in Gordon's slightly doughy body and nodded, muttering to himself. Gordon didn't even seem to care, fucking weird. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey turned to the shower, turned the water up high, hot as it would go, which wasn't… super hot, but good. Fine. Okay.  "Bout to be Gordon Cleanman," Benrey said, urging him into the stall. Gordon just kinda stood there, water pouring down his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, gonna wash?" Benrey asked. "Wash hair? Wanna, uh, clean up?" Gordon gave a shuddering sigh, then started to actually cry, first silently, then hard, sobbing, bawling his eyes out. Benrey backed up, panicked, as Gordon sank to the shower floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"B...buddy? Friend?" Benrey stood, unsure of what to do, watching Gordon curl in on himself under the shower spray. "Okay, uh, you're not doing it right," he said, and looked down at his spiffy new uniform. Not gonna get that shit wet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon didn't look up as Benrey undressed, not even as he approached and crouched in the shower with him. Just wept as Benrey reached around him for the shampoo and poured a ridiculous amount onto his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's okay, s'okay," Benrey murmured, sounding absolutely unsure of that. Gordon grabbed his shoulders and Benrey tensed, but he was just, like… hugging, holding onto him, face in Benrey's shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually Gordon got quieter, then silent, his shoulders shaking wordlessly, and then eventually, he lifted his head. His face was a mess of red. "I, uh." Sniffle. "Should probly wash up."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Wuh? Yeah," Benrey said, letting Gordon pull away. He stood, backing up to give Gordon space, and grabbed the towel hanging by the shower to draw himself off with. Gordon washed up, no more tears, just soaped up and rinsed in silence. Benrey, half dressed now, handed him the towel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thanks," Gordon mumbled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah," Benrey said, not feeling very chatty now. "You, uh… you okay?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No," Gordon said, towelling his hair. Benrey followed him out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, undecorated and barely furnished. Benrey looked around at the three pieces of furniture: bed, dresser, cardboard box acting as bedside table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You just move in?" Benrey asked. "Uh, you wanna play games?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No," Gordon said. "Dont feel like it." Uh, well, that was fucking concerning. Gordon always liked getting his ass kicked in Street Fighter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bro,” Benrey said softly, as Gordon pulled on a fresh set of sweats and another old t-shirt. “Dude, what the fuck! Why are you so, why’re you so sad, you look so doooooown, you’re all cryin and shit, what the fuck. All boohoo, wa wa wa. What’s wrong with you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fucking--I’m not okay, Benrey! After everything at Black Mesa, I’m not okay!” Gordon was getting mad again, welling up with fresh emotions, and so Benrey dug in, jabbed harder. In fact, he stepped closer and jabbed Gordon in the chest with his fingertip, prodding him physically too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh what, you so scared of aliens coming back, you so scared you cry all the time now? That it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Gordon yelled, “I’m fucking--so many people DIED, Benrey! I almost died! Everyone almost died! And everyone’s acting like nothing fucking happened! Do you realize how much stress I’m under? I have nightmares, every! fucking! night! About having my hand cut off, and fucking peeper puppies, and YOU! I dream about YOU, fucking m-mmm, MORPHING into grotesque forms, and then you’re chasing me, and it’s just--not okay! It’s fucked up! I’m not okay!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey was silent a moment, but his finger still pressed into Gordon’s chest, just sticking there until Gordon swatted him away. “You dream about me?” Benrey asked, flattered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. It’s--I wake up terrified every night, that I’m not out of there yet. That this is just a dream and I’m still in Black Mesa.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You dream about me,” Benrey repeated. “Kinda hot bro, enn gee ell.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you focus? I’m… I’m just not doing well Benrey. And no one else is like this. Dr. Coomer and Bubby, they went to Bermuda, and Tommy’s just doing whatever, you got a job already… no one cares about what happened in there.” He dropped back to sit on the edge of his mattress, staring at the floor. “No one… no one even noticed. No one checked in on me, and I needed it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I checked in,” Benrey said defensively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Every day!” Benrey insisted. “Bro, why you think I’m sending you emojis and uhh, game invites and shit, you think I didn’t wanna hang with my brooooo buddy? You think Benrey didn’t notice? I’ve been trying to talk to you for a month. Gordon… Sulkman.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t rhyme,” Gordon muttered. He didn’t seem to have anything to say after that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted to play, fucking, Street Fighter, or like, whatever games you have, dumb games, you have all stupid games, but I wanted to play with you, kick your ass, and do the voice chat but you IGNORED ME.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Gordon said, pushing his glasses up to his forehead to rub his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted to hang out.” Benrey sat on the edge of the bed beside him sulkily. “You think Benny boy’s been having fun? I never get to see my friend. You’re all, uh, depressed and shit, never talk to me. I would have listened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Gordon said. Silence followed, for about a minute.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I dream about you too,” Benrey said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, like uh, hot dreams.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon laughed at that, a little chuckle, and then genuine, chest heaving laughter, and maybe not in the hysterical way. Benrey didn’t really get it, since it wasn’t a joke, but he was happy just to see Gordon emoting again, like a normal dude, instead of being all like, dead inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t wanna know what you classify as hot dreams,” Gordon chuckled finally, looking over at him. “What, do you dream about looking at my feet or something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes,” Benrey said defensively. “Or sometimes I’m big and chasin ya.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, not funny,” Gordon said, still smiling a bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey elbowed him and Gordon elbowed him back, then stood and stretched. “Guess I should take some of those food bags out,” he mused. “Fuck, my neighbors are gonna think I’m a pig.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are. Oink oink or whatever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, you’re the one wearing a pig uniform.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha--hey,” Benrey said, “I’m hurt. Call my uniform sexy. Right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or what? Gonna make me lick your boots, bootboy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“WHUH---FRIEND BUDDY!” Benrey yelled, kicking his feet against the floor. “You’re mean, I change my mind. I’m not gonna play with you, Street Fighter 4 on PS3, you’re out of luck idiot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, what a loss,” Gordon laughed, heading towards the kitchen. Benrey ran after him, punching him in the back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon Meanman! Boooo! Cringefail momence from Gordon once again!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ow, stop it.” Gordon started dumping out takeout cups and stacking them together, rounding up bags. He turned to face the guard, irritated. “Benrey, seriously, st--” The Sweet Voice hit him before he could react, straight into his mouth, a solid blue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey, fuck!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I HATE YOU,” Benrey sobbed, throwing himself on his back on the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ, Benrey, we can play Street Fighter, just help me take the trash out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“NO.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop being so loud, my neighbors are gonna complain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey banged his boots repeatedly against the floor in response, until Gordon stopped what he was doing and knelt in front of him, holding his feet in place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey. I am trying. So hard. Not to snap. Can you please be quiet for like, ten minutes, so I can run some garbage out? And then we’ll play.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey huffed and crossed his arms, but didn’t get up off the floor. He watched as Gordon finished gathering up the garbage, two big bags worth, and then refused to move away from the front door to let Gordon out; the door ended up banging against his helmet as Gordon opened it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not sorry,” Gordon decided aloud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon was back in about eight minutes, which was long enough for Benrey to get up, rifle through his underwear drawer, steal his dirty t-shirt from the bathroom, and roll around on his bed. He sat up on the mattress as the door swung open again, and ran back out to the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanted to play Street Fighter?” Gordon asked. “Alright. Let’s play Street Fighter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They settled in on the couch, Benrey taking the player 1 controller, (disrespectful action) and Gordon loaded up SF4. Benrey began whooping his ass immediately, and it was like everything was back to normal. Just friend Gordon and friend Benrey, being buddies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You gotta work tomorrow?” Gordon asked between rounds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, closed weekends.” Benrey lounged against the armrest of the couch, barely sitting up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You, uh… do you wanna stay for a while then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, not leaving right now, still playing Street Fighter, kicking your ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean,” Gordon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Would you like to stay the night or something. Just hang out a bit longer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanna sleepover with Benrey? You wanna create a only one bed tag archive of our own fanfiction scenario? With Benrey?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what that means--Look, I just don’t want to be alone tonight, okay? You don’t have to stay, but if you wanted to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, ask me then bro.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ask me to sleep over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I literally just did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, ask me nice. Say Benrey, please sleep in my bed with me tonight, no archive warnings apply.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not gonna say that,” Gordon said, as Benrey tapped on the button to start a new round.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, then I’m gonna leave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Benrey mimicked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t do that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mneh meh mneh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey, seriously.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey mneriousny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“GOD,” Gordon yelled, as his character was knocked out on screen, “Benrey would you PLEASE stay over tonight? PLEASE. Would you be so kind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Benrey said, tossing his controller aside. Immediately, he yawned. “Bro, I’m so tired. I’m so snoozy. I need my sleepy rests.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s eight o’clock,” Gordon protested.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, a growing boy needs his nighty night time? Idiot? Thought you had a kid, you should know this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously? The sun just barely went down Benrey, why are you so eager to--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“GOODNIGHT, GORDON SLEEPMAN,” Benrey said loudly, standing and heading for the bedroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, where are you going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sleepman’s sleepzone, duh. Come with?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon frowned, then realization dawned on him. “Oh, okay, I see what you’re doing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No you don’t,” Benrey said, inching into his bedroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll sleep on the couch, Benrey, you can have the bed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha, no, that’s not fair, I wanted to sniff you while you slept.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t, don’t be creepy. Dude.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come cuddle,” Benrey pleaded, “come snuggle your bro, it’s so cringe if you don’t, I’ll put you in a Youtube cringe compilation 8 hours marathon, make you watch the whole thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon rubbed his face again with a sigh. “Okay. Whatever. Let me turn off the tv.” He turned away to do so, and Benrey dove onto his mattress, nearly noclipping through it in excitement. When Gordon came back, Benrey had tucked himself in, fully dressed, boots still on, and was peeking over the edge of the covers at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“First of all, take your shoes off,” Gordon said, yanking back the sheets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bro, I was so cozy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not gonna wear your uniform to bed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why--it can’t be comfortable. Do you sleep like that at home?” Benrey just stared at him. “You know? Sleep? When you get in bed and close your eyes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know sleep,” Benrey said defensively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have some pajamas you can borrow. Come on, get up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey reluctantly climbed back out of bed, fueled by thoughts of getting to wear Gordon’s jammies to bed. The pajama set Gordon handed him, however, still had the tags on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw what come on, nooooo, I wanna wear used pjs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Too bad. Those ones didn’t fit me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trade me!” Benrey cried, shoving them back at Gordon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, no, just put them on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon Stingyman,” Benrey sniffed, as Gordon walked out to use the bathroom. Benrey undressed, sulking again, folded his uniform so nice and neat, good job Benrey, and changed into the brand new, never worn by Gordon pajamas. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This sucks,” he muttered, tugging at the slightly ill-fitting outfit. Definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightly</span>
  </em>
  <span> closer to Gordon’s size.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon returned with his teeth brushed again, and Benrey ran into the bathroom to try to utilize the same toothbrush--Gordon managed to wrangle it away from him before he could. “God, how can you be so well behaved in the afternoon and then such a jackass later?” Gordon asked, shoving Benrey back towards his bedroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, you’re back to normal,” Benrey noted, grinning at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon climbed into bed on the side nearest the door, so Benrey clambered over him to the other side. He peeled back the sheets to climb in, laid side by side with Gordon and stared at the popcorn ceiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re gonna try something, do it now,” Gordon warned. “I punch in my sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whuh? Bro, why’re you threatening me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just saying, if you’re gonna try to like, kiss me, or spoon or whatever, get it out of the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh? What? What’s, Benrey’s just laying here man, didn’t even… you wanna kiss? Is that it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon sighed, rolling over towards the door. “Nevermind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey lay in the dark for a while, eyes on Gordon’s back. He reached for him, thought better of it, and instead curled in on himself, inhaling deeply Gordon’s scent from the sheets. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. i don't blame you for being you, but you can't blame me for hating it</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Gordon woke up in the morning, feeling simultaneously exhausted and sweaty and more rested than he’d been in a month, Benrey was staring at him. Dead on, unblinking eyes, just staring right into his. Gordon made a strangled noise by biting back his yell, trying not to re-earn himself the title of Dr. Pussy, but Benrey noticed. Benrey saw all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon Screamman,” Benrey said, his head propped up on his hand, elbow against the pillow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long have you been up?” Gordon asked, trying to reach for his glasses without turning his back on Benrey.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Haha, funny. Funny Gordon idiot moments.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you sleep at all, Benrey?” Gordon was trying very, very hard right now to ignore that Benrey was no longer wearing the brand new, Target tags still on them pj’s he’d given him last night, but one of his favorite t-shirts and a pair of his worn out lounge pants. Don’t pay it any attention. Don’t mention it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey grinned at him, all teeth, shiny pearly whites, sharp canines and the rest. Gordon glanced past him at the window. “What time is it?” he asked, sitting up and reaching for his phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nine o four,” Benrey said, just as Gordon tapped his phone awake. Damn. 9:04. It was the first time in weeks that Gordon had woken up before like, five pm, so good job on that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuckin sleepy boy aintcha,” Benrey said, “mister, uh, mister snork, mimimimi. Snoring guy, all hog noises with none flavor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Gordon asked, squinting at a text notification on his phone as Benrey spouted nonsense.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bro, slept for like, eleven hours, twelve hours, thirteen hours--friend Benrey thought you died.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You thought I died and you were just staring at me? What’s wrong with you,” Gordon asked, swiping up to access his texts. “Fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whuh, what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to get up. My, uh… my ex is bringing Joshie over. I forgot.” Gordon stood, stretching a little as he headed for the hallway, and Benrey heard the sink running in the bathroom, but couldn’t move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon’s ex?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As in like, uh, they used to bump nasties together? That kind of ex?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon was brushing his teeth again when Benrey entered the hall, and he stood there watching as Gordon polished his luxury bones. He wasn’t about to ask if he could stay or not, that was pussy weaksauce noob shit, he’d just plant his feet and refuse to leave if Gordon said anything. But the feeling in his guts was weird. Like, uh, a not good feeling. Was this what it was to have a bowel movement?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Gordon was finishing up, gargling, a knock came at the front door. Benrey sprinted for it, heard Gordon choke and spit and come flying after him, shouting nearly incomprehensibly “THREE TWO ONE GORDON” as he went. There was a struggle in the kitchen; Gordon pinned Benrey down, and Benrey clipped through the floor to escape, and then resurfaced only to be shoved back into the hallway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay,” Gordon warned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mneh,” Benrey sassed him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon swung the front door open an inch or two, then fumbled with the chain lock for a moment; closed it to get the chain off, then reopened, all the way this time. A woman walked in, breezed right past him, carrying two child's backpacks and a reusable grocery bag and a stuffed toy of some kind of animal, Benrey wasn’t sure what, didn’t care for earth animals much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, Gordon, your place is a wreck,” she commented, as Gordon picked up his son (looked a bit shit irl too, tbh) and asked him how his day was, if he’d had breakfast. “Is that a burger? Jesus, Gordon. Are you--” She caught sight of Benrey in the hall, leaning cool-guy style with one foot against the wall and his arms crossed, still wearing Gordon’s clothes, a bit big on him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” she asked, snappily, turning back to Gordon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no!” Gordon said, “Benrey’s just--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s wearing your pajamas,” Gordon’s ex noted, voice unamused. Benrey glanced down at the shirt. So? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I needed someone to stay over last night, so he stayed over,” Gordon stressed, as Joshua wriggled out of his arms, slipped to the floor, and ran into the living room to turn on the tv. “Pam--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Pam</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Benrey snorted, like it was the stupidest fucking name he’d ever heard, because it was. She turned and looked at him, as if shocked he were still there, let alone openly mocking her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon, I know you’ve had… some issues since Black Mesa, but this is kind of… I mean, your kid’s here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not even like that,” Gordon protested, as the sounds of the PS3 menu reached them. Benrey craned his neck to see what Joshua was doing. “And it’s--well frankly, it’s none of your business how I cope with Black Mesa.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pam pinched the bridge of her nose, rubbed it, exhaled slowly as if she was trying not to explode. “Do I need to take Joshie with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! What, no!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I literally asked you to spend one day with him, one day in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>month. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Do you know how many times I’ve heard “when are we going to daddy’s?” this month? Your son misses you, Gordon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know that,” Gordon said, on the defensive. “Look, it’s just been hard…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I get it, I know that! A nuclear meltdown is a lot to cope with, but--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bro, whuh?” Benrey cut in. “Nuclear meltdown? That what you think?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pam looked at him like he’d grown another head, which was a possibility that Benrey could make happen, if he so chose. She didn’t seem so much shocked by what he’d said as she was by the fact that he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>standing there, listening to their quiet argument.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey,” Gordon laughed nervously, “why don’t you go sit down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell you what happened for real, real time, HD,” Benrey said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey,” Gordon stressed, “please, please just go sit down and wait for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like it when you beg, buddy,” Benrey said, still eyeing Pam. “Does she know about the aliens?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There were no aliens, Benrey!” Gordon hissed. “Stop--stop trying to make a mess of things. Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If there’s no aliens, how’d you explain this,” Benrey asked, grabbing Gordon’s right wrist and holding up his totally intact hand. “Whuh, bro, how you got your hand back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Knock it off,” Gordon hissed, yanking his hand away and rubbing his forearm idly. Pam shook her head, arms crossed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Swear to god, Gordon, if Joshie comes home afraid of aliens or something--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not going to,” Gordon assured her, “because there’s nothing to be afraid of. Right? Benrey?” He looked at Benrey, stared at him real hard, and Benrey nodded slowly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Daddy!” Joshua yelled, running into the hall to hand Gordon the dry, partially eaten cheeseburger Benrey had kicked into the wall the night before. Pam stared down at it, lips pursed, until Josh had run back to the living room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Haha, depression mealzzzzz.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I… forgot to clean this up,” Gordon said, staring at the burger in his hand. “Thanks, Joshie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pam did another long, deep exhale, like she was struggling not to yell. “Against my better judgement… I am leaving Joshie here. If I find out that anymore bullshit happened while he was here…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing’s going to happen!” Gordon hissed indignantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I cured him,” Benrey said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I don’t want him around… Bernard, or whatever your name is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dumb name,” Benrey scoffed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey’s cool,” Gordon protested, sounding kind of unsure of it himself. “Uh, maybe you should head out soon though… You’ve got work…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you, closed weekends, dipshit. Himbo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Gordon said, gritting his teeth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Joshie,” Pam called over her shoulder, “you know mommy’s number?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes!” Joshua yelled, running back into the hall and rattling it off as he approached.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice, I’ll text you later,” Benrey said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Pam snapped. “Joshie, call me if you get scared.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Joshua said, hugging her legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Exactly one second after Pam was out the door, Benrey dove ass-first onto the couch, planting himself firmly in the center and snatching up the player 1 controller, the nicer controller. The other one was all like, uh, eroded by sweat and stuff, overuse. Nasty Gordon Sweatman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanna play!” Joshua yelled, bounding in and clambering onto the couch to Benrey’s right. Benrey gave pause, staring at him, like he’d forgotten the kid was there. His lip curled, slightly disgusted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bro, this came out of you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up Benrey,” Gordon groaned, opening and closing his almost empty cupboards. He pried open the fridge, squinted at the milk jug, and chucked it right in the trash.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up Benny!” Joshua said, and Benrey leaned away, glaring at the little kid. Like, what the fuck, just met, and now he’s being all, uhh, mean and shit? Already? Just like his dad, Benrey supposed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yo, uh, tell your spawn to chill,” Benrey said, as Gordon approached with a box of dry cereal. Nothing good, that nasty stuff, Frosty Wheats or whatever. Gordon munched on it noisily, hand to mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He can tell you to shut up,” Gordon said, settling into the couch on Benrey’s other side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon MEANMAN, Gordon ASSHOLEMAN.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said a swear,” Joshua informed him. Gordon sat up abruptly to say something to Joshua, something like “yup, we don’t say those,” but Benrey was talking over him, loudly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, I’m about to say another one now. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“BENREY!” Gordon shrieked, grabbing him by the front of his pajama shirt. Joshua laughed, kicking his legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said fuck!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Joshua! Oh my god, no, Benrey, we’re trying to get him to stop cursing…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, too bad? It’s in his veins, or like, his DNA maybe. Probly learned it from you, dipshit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“STOP,” Gordon pleaded, “please, stop. If he goes home cursing like that, Pam’s going to strangle me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, that’s not okay,” Benrey said, frowning. “No, uh, she doesn’t get to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I want pancakes," Joshua announced, and Gordon sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I need to get groceries," he said. "Joshie, you wanna go to the park? Daddy needs to buy pancake mix. And syrup."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Bro, you drank all your syrup? Freak?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joshua was ignoring them, already excitedly pulling his shoes back on to go to the park. "Benrey, go get dressed," Gordon said. "You can borrow some sweats if you want."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, what, no, I got my clothes. Sexy uniform, remember?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Suit yourself," Gordon sighed, as Joshua started echoing "sexy, sexy."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey changed at his urging, returning to the living room in his uniform and big stomping shiny kick-your-teeth-in boots, Joshua fiddled with his velcro sneakers for a bit, and then Gordon herded them through the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dealing with a little kid AND Benrey at the same time was…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, not WORSE than Black Mesa, though Gordon was tempted to say so. Just really irritating. He could feel his blood pressure spiking, repeatedly, like it was going higher every time. Any second now his heart would stop, and the H.E.V. suit wouldn’t be there to resuscitate him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which was just as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where we goin,” Benrey asked, trying to pry open the elevator doors with his hands. Gordon knew for a fact he could have done it, or could have just clipped through them and dropped down the shaft, but he was holding back. Good! Last thing he needed was for Joshie to see something like that, scary man who could walk through closed doors.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The park, and then I’m going to pick up some groceries.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Booooo,” Benrey said, and Gordon ignored him, not caring which part of that he was protesting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The elevator arrived with a ding, and Benrey rushed in first, hammering on all the buttons, as many of them as he could touch at once. “Dude!” Gordon yelled, grabbing his wrist and pulling him away from the controls, “what’s wrong with you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Help us get down faster,” Benrey said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How is that going to help? Now it’s going to stop on every floor!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you mad now? You gonna make the elevator fall? Like with those three--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon slammed his hand over Benrey’s mouth to silence him, before Joshie heard too much. He probably needn’t have worried; Joshua was focused on the lights on his sneakers, but fuck, Gordon didn’t need more reminding of how many lives had been lost, or how many of them had been at his hands…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He released Benrey without looking at him, failing to notice the hitch in Benrey’s breath or the way his eyes followed Gordon’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Calm down, calm down Gordon. No reason to get mad, or panic, or think about death death death. Don’t think about Black Mesa. Don’t think about Xen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanna race!” Joshua announced when they reached the ground floor, and that jolted Gordon a bit more, remembering the dangerous races through Black Mesa. Stop thinking about it, idiot!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s just walk, Joshie, daddy’s tired,” Gordon said, taking Joshua’s hand and holding him back. Benrey was uncharacteristically quiet, which was nice. Shut the fuck up for once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They made it to the park in one piece, which was not much of a feat considering it was half a block away. But to Gordon, it was a journey spent reeling Joshua back in, turning around to locate Benrey, dragging him along. Like herding very stupid, very intelligent, very annoying sheep, and one of the sheep was an alien god and the other was your son.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The second they hit the grass, Joshua was gone, just running and tumbling around, shouting, picking handfuls of grass and throwing it. Gordon sank onto a bench, hanging his head. Fuck, he was so exhausted. Leaving the house was like, too much. Not just tiring. It was scary. He’d seen himself on the news, nearly every day for the past month, blurry stills of the H.E.V. suit and the man wearing it. And now that he was outside again, gone from the safety of his couch in his apartment, no longer hiding behind his PS3, it was like…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone was looking at him. Muttering, murmuring, staring into him with sharp, dark eyes. This was worse than Xen, more stressful than Black Mesa. A car drove past the park, speeding, engine screaming, and Gordon covered his ears, put his head between his knees and struggled to breathe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey wasn’t saying anything, just standing there. Fuck, Gordon wished he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>say something, make some stupid, incoherent quip. Fuckin, uh, Gordon Fearman, scared of a Mustang, uh boohoo, wahhh so scared, gonna cry again Gordon Weepman? He lifted his head slowly, glancing at Benrey, to find he wasn’t even looking, just staring off into the distance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joshua came running over, handed Gordon a pebble, and ran away again. Circled back to look at Benrey, like he’d only just noticed him. “Are you a cop?” he asked quizzically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, what do you think,” Benrey asked, smirking and crossing his arms. Cool guy style.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I HATE YOU,” Joshua yelled, and kicked him full-force in the shin. Benrey yelled wordlessly, hopping up on one foot and holding onto his shin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck, man!” Benrey exclaimed, turning to look at Gordon, who was just laughing quietly into his palm. “BRO! You see that? You see what your little semen demon did to me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon laughed harder at that, wheezing so hard he was nearly choking, as Joshua ran back over with a cry of “Daddy!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s up Joshie,” Gordon laughed, lifting his head just in time to get clocked in the forehead with a mud-covered rock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s for you!” Joshua exclaimed, already taking off again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Broooooo, ruthless,” Benrey snorted. “Yo, your headmeat okay? He hurt your lil neurons? Little uh, nuggets…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re trying to get him to stop that too,” Gordon groaned, rubbing his forehead and smearing mud around. Great. Okay. Cool. Very nice, thanks Joshie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, lemme help,” Benrey said, licking his palm and wiping it across Gordon’s forehead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“BENREY! Sick, what the hell!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Simbaaaaaaaaaa,” Benrey whispered, and then brought his hand to his mouth to lick it again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“NO! NO! DON’T LICK IT!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lemme taste you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They grappled with each other a bit, Gordon trying to wrench Benrey’s hand away from his mouth, until Joshua came running back over, out of breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I FOUND A WORM,” he announced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good job, Joshie!” Gordon grunted, struggling to contain Benrey.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“EAT IT,” Benrey hollered. Instead, Joshua handed the worm to Benrey, who slapped it against the side of Gordon’s head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“BENREY!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hahahahahahhaa, oh fuck, hahahahaha,” Benrey laughed, voice booming and staticky. “Fuck, Gordon, Wormdon Freeman. Got woooooooorms.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Daddy Gorgor, I’m tired,” Joshua announced, changing gears just like that. He tugged on Gordon’s hoodie as his father wiped at his face in disgust, checking for like, bug guts or something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Daddy Gorgor, I’m tired,” Benrey repeated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just daddy is fine, Joshie,” Gordon said, slugging Benrey in the gut. “C’mon. Let’s get some groceries.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“MEANMAN,” Benrey screamed, from where they’d left him, clutching his stomach, by the bench.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey lurked around the grocery store while Gordon picked out some essentials, things he’d need while Joshua was over, at least. Pancake mix, syrup, sugar cereal, shit like that, crap that kids liked. Crap that he liked, if he was being honest. While he picked out fruit snacks, Benrey approached with a full case of Monster, dropping it in the cart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Gordon said, barely looking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need gamer fuel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Buy your own shit, Benrey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, Daddy Gorgor, I’m so thirsty, I need some, uhhhhhhh, soda,” Benrey said, smacking his lips a lot. Gordon pinched the bridge of his nose as Benrey made the most obnoxious mouth sounds he could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, first of all,” Gordon hissed, “don’t call me that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He gets to call you it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not okay. He’s my son. You, you’re just--you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>barely </span>
  </em>
  <span>a friend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey staggered back from that, eyes wide and a little hurt. Maybe a lot hurt. Gordon felt kind of… bad. Genuinely bad, like, why had he said it like that? “I mean, you’re a friend, Benrey, but you’re on thin ice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey didn’t say anything, just picked up the case of Monster and ran back down the aisle with it. Joshua returned to the cart, having finally decided which flavor of Pop Tarts he wanted, and they headed for the self checkout. Joshua, enthusiastic about helping, made the whole process take about four times as long as it should have, but then they were out of there, Gordon loaded down with bags and Joshua carrying a bag of chips “until I get tired,” he promised, which meant that Gordon was going to have to carry that too. Benrey was nowhere to be found outside, and Gordon groaned. He’d overbought, counting on Benrey to be there to carry half the shit, but of course fucking not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he lugged it back himself, Joshua walking along with the bag of chips for about twenty feet before he handed it over to his dad. The kid stopped every few sidewalk squares to pick something up, or pick at a plant growing in the cracks, or look at a bug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey was standing outside of Gordon’s building when they reached it, staring at the door. “I could have used some help!” Gordon shouted at him as they neared the building, and Benrey looked around wildly for the source of his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whuh, why, Gordon WEAKman, Weaksauce noodlearms man. Lil tubby belly boy aintcha? Lil, mmmm, no biceps bitch?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon forced half the groceries onto Benrey, and then a little more than half, and the party of three headed back upstairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The day passed in a blur for Gordon; make pancakes, make a horrible mess making pancakes, leave it for Tomorrow Gordon. Joshua eats the pancakes, makes a horrible mess of himself and the coffee table in the process. Make Joshua change his shirt and wash his hands and face, at the very fucking least. Fuck around on PS+ with Joshie and Benrey for a few hours, as shadows move across the room through the blinds. Think about Black Mesa the entire fucking time. Don’t hear a word Benrey says. Respond on auto-pilot to Joshua’s inane demands to play Cowboys 17, Cowboys 18, Cowboys 19, Cowboys 20,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Daddy Gorgor, I’m hungry,” Joshua announced, and Gordon lifted his head, looked sleepily towards the drawn blinds. Looked dark out. Glanced at the tv; Benrey was playing some dipshit Youtube videos and watching them, muttering to himself, boots up on the coffee table. He had sunk down into the couch, chin tucked towards his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh. Sorry Joshie, lemme whip something up.” He dragged himself upright, headed to the kitchen to figure out something for a late… 8 pm dinner. Fuck. It had been noon like, ten seconds ago. Literally. What was happening?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bro, whatcha makin. Messy boy?” Benrey asked, joining him in the near-trashed kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hamburger Helper, looks like,” Gordon sighed, pulling out the ingredients.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh sick, Hamburgler Hurgler, I’ll help. Where’s your Baja Blast? Integral fucking, gredience. Beetroot and shit. Then bedtime?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon paused, scanning the back of the Hamburger Helper box. He bent over to get a pan out and turned the stove on. “Benrey, uh, maybe you should head home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to spend some time with my son, you probably have things to do too…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No? Bro, I wanna spend time with you too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I get that, but I haven’t seen him all month, and I’ve been like… mentally clocked out, all fucking day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh, fucking noticed.” Benrey scowled at him. “Why you make me stay over last night if I can’t stay tonight? Thought I live here now. Roommates situation, oh my god we were roommates. Butt naked. Eating Big Macs on the bathroom floor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I--what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why, why could I stay last night and not tonight, please, please oh so nice asking good Benny boy? Friend?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just… I needed someone here last night, Benrey, that was all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey stared at him, silently urging him to continue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was… I was scared I was going to do something stupid if I was alone. Something bad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Haha, like, uh, what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like--God, Benrey, don’t make me say it,” Gordon said, voice dropping to a hiss. “I’ve just… it’s been a long… I’m trying not to think about it, okay, but I just… think about dying a lot.” Pause. He decided to rephrase, because Benrey was still just staring, blankly. “I’ve been thinking about killing myself. A lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why? Just don’t do it,” Benrey said breezily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, helpful, thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you were gonna do it last night but not tonight? Why can’t Benrey friend stay tonight too, I wanna make you uh, not do that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine tonight,” Gordon said, dumping a pound of ground beef into the hot pan. It sizzled, oil popping at Gordon, who began breaking up the meat and browning it. “I’m fine now. I wasn’t doing good, but now I’m good. I’m cool. I don’t need a babysitter anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey huffed sharply through his nose and turned away. “Fuckin, ugh, fine, I’ll go. You have fun with your stupid little, your tiny guy. Idiot.” He blew some Black Mesa Sweet Voice at the back of Gordon’s head, pink to blue. Gordon glanced back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s that mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Means you stink, boooo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, maybe we can hang next weekend? Is that cool?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not cool,” Benrey said, heading for the door. “Not cool to shut good friend Benrey out. Not fun OR nice momence.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re being really selfish right now,” Gordon informed him, as Benrey slid backwards through the door.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. for such a little thing, you sure are in your own way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Benrey muttered to himself the entire time he was in the convenience store. Mumbled and hissed and spat Gordon’s name out of his mouth, ptew ptew, as he picked out a six pack, and some Monster cans, and since they had candy canes at the register for 33 cents, one of those too, to suck into a pointy shank. Shank Gordon right in the prison shower, see if he don’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Selfish,” Benrey grumbled, “yeah, nice friend BENREY is the selfish one, not idiot, stupid idiot, baka Freeman.” He swiped his card, all but yanked the bag out of the cashier’s hand, and stormed out without his receipt. Fuck it. Fuck all of this! Yesterday had been like, bluh, all weird, and then today sucked, and now it was almost nine and he was alone, all lonely at the gas station convenience store, real Benrey sadstuck hours. Grumbling about stupid asshole Gordon Freeman, more like Gordon… Gordon Stupidman. Couldn’t even fucking rhyme right now. Fuck him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He passed back by Gordon’s building, not because he wanted to, but because it was directly in the middle of his route back home. He didn’t stop outside the building cause he wanted to go in or whatever, he was just tying his boots. Untying and retying. And if Gordon happened to look outside and see good pal Benrey outside, tying his boots, and call him up to play Street Fighter, neat!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A car screeched to a halt against the curb, bumped into it, idiot driver stupid. The driver hopped out, leaving the car parked there (illegal) and ran past him into the building. Benrey only barely recognized her, and it took him a second. What was her name again? Some dumb shit. Pamgela?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moved without stopping to decide, just ran after her into the building, jammed his foot between the closing elevator doors and stepped in beside her. Pam hammered on the close door button, glaring at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yo wassup, you here to play PlayStation? PlayStation Three?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just got a call from Joshie,” Pam snapped at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So? Why does your kid got a phone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He used Gordon’s--are you always this stupid? Jesus Christ.” Pam reached past him to hold down the button for Gordon’s floor, as if that would make the elevator move any faster.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what’s going on, but Joshie said he was acting weird and scaring him.” Pause. “Kind of surprised you’re not there, honestly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He was being cringe, I had to leave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pam shoved him in her hurry to get out of the elevator, and Benrey followed at his own pace, muttering and dusting off his uniform where she’d touched it. “Gordon!” She called, pounding on his door. “Open the door!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey shoved her fist away and put his ear to the door. He could hear something--not quite a scream, but a high pitched sound, like a tea kettle boiling away to nothing. Sounded bad. “Hey, hold this,” he said, handing his bag of snackssssss off to Pam, who stared at it, and the person who’d handed it to her, in revulsion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he noclipped through the door and undid the chain for her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“YOU’RE WELCOME,” Benrey snapped at her as she rushed in, snatching Joshua off the couch. Gordon was on the floor, which Benrey thought was relatively normal for him. Floordon Feetman. He had always slept on the floor at Black Mesa, so.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The noise was coming from Gordon though, which was like, not his usual thing. Benrey approached as Pam inched around him, holding onto Joshua and petting his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is going on,” she asked, sounding nervous. Benrey knelt next to Gordon, trying to put a hand on him. Gordon’s noise increased in volume and pitch. He was mostly face down, clutching his right forearm, right about where he’d lost it. But it was cool, he’d got it back, so it was good, it was fiiiiine, all chill and fun again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha’s wrong bro?” Benrey asked, careful not to touch him. “You wanna talk to Benrey?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon made that noise some more, and after about three minutes, finally managed some words. “Yyyyyyou, you did this, you did this to me Benrey! You, you double crossing, traitorous--my hand, my fucking hand, oh my god…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, bro, it’s back! You grew it back!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“MY FUCKING HAND, BENREY! MY HAND!” Gordon screamed at him, tears dripping off his scraggly, unmaintained beard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, it’s okay bro. C’mere. Let old Benny boy show you. Lemme see. You got, uhhhh, like ten of these little mini corndogs here,” he said, taking Gordon’s hand in his delicately and poking at his fingers. “Yeah, ten. Maybe more. And it looks like you got two of these bitches, see?” He laced his fingers through Gordon’s, squeezed his hand. “You feel that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon hiccuped and sobbed, not listening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon. Do you feel that. Yoooo, earth to Gordon... PTSDman.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It hurts,” Gordon groaned. Benrey looked over his shoulder at Pam, standing frozen in the kitchen watching them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhh, what? You can leave,” Benrey said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not just going to leave, I’m worried about him,” Pam snapped. “What’s wrong with his hand?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Benrey said, as Gordon squeezed back, so tight he lost feeling in his fingers. “Whoa, okay, that’s hot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey,” Gordon pleaded, “Benrey was--was any of that, any of it even fucking real? Is THIS real?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Duh,” Benrey said, sitting criss cross applesauce beside him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do I know--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would good friend Benrey lie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon nodded at that, and Benrey gasped, indignant. Gordon lifted his head a bit, still looking down at the dirty carpet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It feels… it’s like I’m still in Black Mesa. Like I’m never going to be able to leave, just always going back in there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wow, uh, Gordon was really fucking upset about Black Mesa, huh? Beating up a dead horse much?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I’d go back in after you,” Benrey said, giving Gordon’s hand a little squeeze, the best he could muster when Gordon was trying to cut off all circulation to his fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s…” Gordon looked up at last, still teary, but calmer, breathing slower. “That’s really sweet, Benrey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah uh, gotta make sure you don’t steal shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon snorted in surprise, then laughed, a little chuckle that built up until he was wheezing, loud and high pitched. Benrey grinned at him as Gordon let up on his hand, blood flow returning to his fingers. Gordon started coughing then, hacking up a lung, but he was still grinning and laughing and crying through it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pam approached again, Joshua twisting in her arms to look at Gordon. “Gordon, uh, I’m… I’m gonna get Joshie home. Are you…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Gordon said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Liar, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Benrey thought, fucking liar, always making shit up. Always fucking things up. Causing like, resonance cascade and shit, all that. Making Benrey’s heart flutter in his chest and shit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Pam said. “I’m parked on the curb, so I gotta…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re good,” Gordon said, then repeated, “I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pam let herself and Joshua out, and then it was just the two of them again. Gordon remained on the floor, collapsed against it, as Benrey got up and retrieved his bag of convenience store bullshit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey, can you uh… I can’t move. Can you help me up?” Gordon asked, as Benrey went to sit down on the couch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, what? Yeah, I got you. Friend Gordon.” Benrey set the bag on the coffee table, stepped over Gordon, one leg on either side of him, and hefted him like a big sack of limp potatoes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck,” Gordon gasped, “Benrey, how are you--is this some Xen bullshit? Like the noclip?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha? No, I’m just like, built.” He sat Gordon down on the couch, put a beer bottle in his hand. Gordon tried to lift it, struggled to move his right arm, and easily picked it up with his left instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have a stroke? Oldman Fartman?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It… It feels like it’s not there,” Gordon said. “Like it’s just gone. I mean, I see it, but I could feel them cutting it off again…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh,” Benrey said, biting the cap off his beer and sucking it down, throat bobbing. Gordon eyed him nervously, then kind of handed his beer over so Benrey could bite his cap off as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So uh…. Benrey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck yeah, that’s me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m really sorry about earlier,” Gordon began. “I shouldn’t… I don’t know why I pushed you away. I mean, I know why, you did so much fucked up shit, but like… you’re the only person who’s even tried to worry about me since Black Mesa, so like…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t discredit Pamgela,” Benrey said, and then belched. “She worried too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, I know that.” Gordon licked his lips, looking down at his beer, untouched, Benrey’s spit on the mouth of the bottle. “But what I’m trying to say is… You are my friend. You’re a good friend. I’m really grateful for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, gay homo much?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You, uh, you gay for me or somethin?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wh--Benrey, I’m trying to be serious. I’m trying to </span>
  <em>
    <span>apologize.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lil dick sucker apology? Get down on the floor and suck old Benny’s uh, dick?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unbelievable,” Gordon said. “Okay, nevermind. I tried. Just. Fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon,” Benrey said, when he’d been sulking for about three minutes, silent. “Gordon, come on, Gordon Seriousman. Can’t take a joke at all.” Benrey elbowed him hard enough to jostle the arm holding his beer and splash it on his sweats. “I’m jokey jokes, I’m just kidding.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon “heh”ed at that, and took a sip of his beer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanna toke up?” Benrey asked. “Wanna get a lil green with your good pal friend?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” Gordon said intelligently. “Sure,” which was perhaps not such an intelligent answer. Benrey whipped out a little baggie of weed, some papers, started rolling a joint. Gordon sipped his beer, trying to relax. Be cool, Freeman. Just be chill and calm down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Make you sleep so good tonight,” Benrey promised, licking the little rolled cylinder. “You know how to smoke, science boy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know how to smoke, Benrey,” Gordon said, rolling his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cause, uh, buddy Benrey could show you.” Gordon shook his head, taking the joint and the offered lighter from Benrey. The lease said no smoking but fuck, whatever, this one time didn’t count.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lit up, inhaled, held it for about .03 seconds, and began hacking, eyes burning. Benrey snatched the joint from him before he could drop it on himself. “Fuh-fuck--fuck, Benrey, what the fuck? What is that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Weed,” Benrey said flatly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It fucking burns!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh, special order from Xen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, it hits better than weaksauce earth garbage.” Benrey inhaled and held it for a long time, too long, before letting the smoke back out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fucking Christ,” Gordon wheezed, throat burning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want some help? You need help? To get high? Mister doesn’t know how to smoke Weedman?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I think I’m good,” Gordon said, chugging his beer to try to get the sensation of fire out of his mouth and throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure? Cause this shit, uh, makes you feel real good.” Pause. “So, so good. Tryin to be nice and shit, help you have a good vibe… Won’t hurt if I help you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon hesitated, then nodded, so slightly he barely caught it himself, but Benrey saw. He always saw, every move Gordon made. Benrey reached out and took Gordon’s beer from him, set it on the coffee table, and climbed into his lap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” Gordon said, “the fuck’re you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Relax,” Benrey said, his ass on Gordon’s thighs, legs on either side of him. Straddling, Gordon’s brain supplied. Thank you, brain! It was weird, Gordon had always thought Benrey must be all like, solid, blocky, built out of squares and like, polygons, but he felt softer in his lap. More real, more human. Less of a nightmare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Open your mouth,” Benrey said, toking up. Gordon gulped, a motion that sounded too loud in his ears, and parted his lips nervously. Benrey leaned in, placing a hand on Gordon’s chest to steady himself--or just to feel him up, who could even tell with this asshole--and put his lips up to Gordon’s, not touching, not a kiss, not gay, Gordon assured himself. And he exhaled, cool smoke sliding down Gordon’s windpipe and into his lungs and making his brain go all staticy. Gordon’s eyes closed, against his will, as he inhaled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey,” Gordon breathed, as his eyes fluttered back open. He squinted. Benrey wasn’t in his lap anymore, not even in the room. How fucking long had he been sitting there? “Benrey?” he called, trying to stand and finding his legs had turned into pudding. He looked down at his hands to check--two of them, 3d and shaped right and everything--and waited for a response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re back,” Benrey said, coming back down the hall in Gordon’s clothes. His hair was wet. “You like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t fucking rememmer,” Gordon slurred, head lolling to the side. “The hell you give me…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Benrey asked, plopping down on the couch next to him. “Gave you like, uh, six hits. Thought you had enough but you kept lookin at me like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I dying?” Gordon asked, a question directed at no one in particular.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I usually smoke that shit before I go to work. Makes, uh, the clock… time. Time goes faster, all weird and shit. Dunno how it works.” Benrey leaned over him, reaching for the remote, and Gordon struggled to track his movements.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t remember saying anything after that, but Benrey was suddenly laughing, hand on his knee. “Fuck, uh, maybe?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh? Oh, you uh, you spacin out there? Buddy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhhh,” Gordon said, feeling and sounding very stupid. He might actually be losing brain cells. His PhD knowledge could just, like, vanish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey was laughing again, and Gordon gave a nervous chuckle that gave way to boisterous, full body laughter. What the fuck, he wanted to say, but barely got thorugh the thought before he was opening his eyes again to find himself in his bedroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Buh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Haha, yeah, buh? I remember that,” Benrey said, pushing Gordon down on his back on his side of the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha…. time is it?” Gordon asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why you always askin that? Check your, uh, system clock, dumbass. It’s four o three.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In the morning?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What the fuck. “What did we do? For seven hours?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, regular dude shit? I dunno bro. Games and shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon turned his head, lifted a slow hand to remove his glasses and rub his face--and opened his eyes to find sunlight streaming through his blinds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time, Benrey was spooning him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon squirmed, and Benrey held onto him, pulling him closer if anything. “Two fifty seven,” Benrey said, before he could even ask. “You were, uh, talking. In your sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you let go? Fuck, I need to pee.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why, why you always doing that?” Benrey asked, letting up just a little bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Peeing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, stop uh, stop doing that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, let me go.” Gordon wriggled out of his grasp and made it to the bathroom just in time. Last time he’d pissed was at around 7 pm, which was like… he couldn’t do math right now. The door opened behind him and shut again as Benrey let himself in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you mind?” Gordon snapped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t mind at all,” Benrey said, wetting Gordon’s toothbrush and slathering it with toothpaste. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking gross</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Gordon thought as he started to brush, making a mental note to bust out a fresh toothbrush for himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I need some privacy, Benrey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why? I seen it before,” Benrey said, around the toothbrush in his mouth. Gordon’s toothbrush. “I seen all’a you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon flushed, top of his forehead all the way down, and Benrey stepped up close to him. “In fact, uh, last night--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon froze and grit his teeth. “What happened last night, Benrey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whuh? You don’t remember?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! Why would I remember, I was--you got me all fucked up on that Xen weed shit, I don’t remember a damn thing!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, wow, weak. Pussy. Dr. Pussy, paging you to uh… the pussy ward.” Benrey stepped back over to the sink, spat, and rinsed his mouth. “Come operate on some pussies, Dr. Pussy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon tucked himself away, flushed, and pulled Benrey by the back of his shirt. “What did we do last night,” Gordon demanded, grabbing Benrey by the hair and yanking his head back. “Tell me. Right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh.. wh-whoa,” Benrey breathed. “Um, yeah, uh… yeah…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey.” A sharp tug to the scalp, and Benrey made this noise, this whining, keening sound…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh Christ,” Gordon gasped, letting him go so abruptly, Benrey sagged against the sink. “Okay. That was my bad. But I need to know--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“NOTHING, we didn’t do nothing!” Benrey groaned, leaning over the sink. “You got your dick out, like, all unsafe, hazard, not OSHA approved, tryin to tell me about this like, shit you read, mister PhD and all that shit, MIT grad…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why did I have my dick out?” Gordon asked, bewildered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“YOU HAD A DICK SLIP, IT HAPPENS!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fucking… Jesus, Benrey, I’m sorry I pulled your hair--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go away,” Benrey hissed, gripping the edge of the sink. “Go go go GOOOOO.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon gulped and nodded, stepping carefully around him to the door. He let himself out and shut it again, hurrying away before he could talk himself into some stupid shit like going back in, or listening at the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew what Benrey was doing in there, and why. And he knew it was his fault, pretty much, or rather, was the result of how he’d acted up in the bathroom. And now he was sitting on his couch, trying very hard to pretend that he didn’t know his friend (singular) was like… porking his ham, or whatever. Because of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ten minutes passed. Twenty. Half an hour. Gordon was acutely aware of time slipping by again, his Sunday disappearing on the edge of the horizon as he waited for Benrey to come out of the bathroom. Forty. Forty five.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey?” He called through the door, flexing the fingers of his right hand as much as he could. Still felt weird, unreal. “Uh, do you need hel--are you okay?” Pause. “Friend?” Better butter him up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No answer from the bathroom. “Okay. I’m giving you, like, twenty seconds to pack it up, and then I’m coming in,” he warned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The seconds ticked by. “Benrey?” Gordon put his left hand on the doorknob, turned it slowly, so carefully, as if it might just snap off in his hand, and pushed the door open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bro, what’re you doing?” Benrey asked from behind him. Gordon yelped, nearly jumping out of his skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“FUCK, Benrey! What the hell, man, I was worried about you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why? You think I don’t know how to jack it? I know how.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus,” Gordon sighed shakily, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck, dude. You almost gave me a heart attack--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I gotta go home,” Benrey said, talking over him. Gordon realized for the first time that Benrey was back in his uniform.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah, I guess you have things to do too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you… do you want me to--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Uh. Sorry,” Gordon offered, as Benrey walked past him to the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘S fine,” Benrey grunted, although it clearly was not very fine at all. He paused at the front door, hand on the knob.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to come back over? Next weekend, maybe?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey shrugged. “Maybe. Friday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Gordon said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, see you Friday, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmhmm.” And Benrey was gone, the door latched behind him, leaving Gordon alone again.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. but i'm out of my head when you're not around.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>What the fuck. What the fuck! “What the fuck,” Benrey hissed at himself, as he leaned against his front door. What the fuck had happened back there!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like, he knew, he was there when it happened, but what the fuck. What was wrong with him? All respecting boundaries and shit, being so fucking considerate. Fucking gross. Ew. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why the fuck had he left? Why hadn’t he, like, stayed and toked up again, played some games, whatever the fuck?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure, he had work in the morning, but who gave a shit about that. He could quit his job, who cared. Could also, like, burn his apartment down, whatevs. Just as long as the important shit made it out. PlayStation 3.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bottom (heh) line, Benrey wanted Gordon. Like, bad, worse than he’d ever wanted anything. Heavenly Sword for PS3 was one thing, Gordon was a whole nother. Maybe it was because he’d already played Heavenly Sword for PlayStation 3 so much, he knew what it was like. Could just like, play it in his head, imagination style. Gordon, though…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuck, he was so predictable sometimes. Buhh Benrey friend, I don’t know how to smoke weed, help me with this um, weed cigarette. That was like, expected. But then Gordon had been all like, sit on my lap, shotgun it into my mouth, I’ll get my dick out, lil dick slippy, heh…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What the fuck was up with that! How did he do that, how was he keeping Benrey on his toes like that? Pissed him off!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then in the bathroom…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shit, he’d only gone in to brush his teeth and take another peek at Gordon’s meat, but then the guy was shovin him around, pulling his hair, bullying him so nice oh yes please, and then he’d just left! What was Benrey supposed to do, other than jack it and walk out? Da Sharez0ne rules, walk out if you don’t like something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he didn’t like it. He didn’t fucking like jerking it alone in Gordon’s bathroom, head filled with stupid nerdboy scientist thoughts. It sucked!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It fucking sucked, and he had it bad, so bad. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey changed, ditched his uniform for pajama pants, a hoodie, and a beanie, leaving his uniform neatly folded and his boots shiny by his floor mattress. He sank onto his bed, flopped on his back, and halfheartedly turned the PS3 on, hoping to lose himself in the familiar whir of the fan and the like, computer shit inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ten minutes into Tekken, a message notification popped up. He knew who it was from, and uh, newsflash, big special report, he didn’t give a shit. He was ignoring Gordon. See how he liked it. Being ignored by good pal Benrey. Maybe he’d learn to appreciate Benny bro a lil more, maybe be a bit nicer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or a bit meaner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yeah, maybe he could stand to be a little meaner too, maybe stop being such a weaksauce bitch noob, start using buffs when he talked to Benrey, maybe uh… Pull his hair again? Please?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He missed the physicality of Black Mesa, the slamming each other around, the shoving, the pulling, the sharp blows and fast pace. Real world Gordon was all soft, not sharp like the hevvvvvv suit, just like. Soft and sad and a fucking dipshit, actually, PhD must be fake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some consistency would be nice. Somewhere in there. If Gordon could just like, be nicer most of the time, and then really really mean to him sometimes, that would be--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whatever train of thought Benrey was riding came crashing into the station as two more notifications came in; another message, an invite to play. Uh, no thank you, Gordon… Unpredictable ass. Man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>About ten seconds passed before Gordon sent another message, and then a voice chat request, which was like whuh… Benrey scowled, rolling over on his mattress to face the other way, but Gordon was being annoyingly persistent today, all pushy and shit, which normally would be fun and fine but not right now. Go away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was another twenty minutes before the next message came in, and Benrey glanced at the notification long enough to glean a single word from it. He sighed, rolled back over and picked up his controller, tapped through to the message.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>TheOneFreeMan: Hey, you home?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>TheOneFreeMan: Thought we could do some co-op.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>TheOneFreeMan has invited you to play!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>TheOneFreeMan: Benrey?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>TheOneFreeMan has invited you to voice chat!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>TheOneFreeMan: I’m sorry, Benrey. I’ll give you space.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>johnwicklover1994: who said anything about needing space dipshit</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>johnwicklover1994: seems like youre the one needing some room</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>TheOneFreeMan: That’s probably kind of true. This weekend’s been a lot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>johnwicklover1994: yeah so uh chill out a bit…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>johnwicklover1994 has invited you to play!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>johnwicklover1994 has invited you to voice chat!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Street Fighter was a safe bet. Just fuckin, press some buttons, wipe the floor with Gordon’s fat butt, call it a day. Go to work tomorrow all rested and shit. Haha, joke. As if he slept.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Gordon said, and Benrey could hear him fumbling with his headset a bit. “Can you hear me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh duh? Yeah I can hear you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got work tomorrow?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I can game.” He stood, walking away from the mattress for a moment to go get some refreshments. Grip it and rip it, babey! Crack open a nice cold Monster with your boys on voice chat! Benrey slurped loudly into his mic, and Gordon snorted a bit in his ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, seriously…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so thirsty,” Benrey panted, “I’m gonna have to drink like, the whole case. Before I can play with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Scared you’re gonna get your ass whooped, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, whuh, no? I’m not scared.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then let’s do this, come on!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey returned to his floor mattress, picked up his controller, and almost immediately after starting, got his ass whooped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like, full on whooped. Gordon had done exactly what he’d planned on doing. Cleaning up the floor, wiping it. With him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck,” he hissed, forgetting the headset for a moment. Gordon gave a victory cheer, said a few choice words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Haha, fuck yeah! How’s it feel!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your words are hurtful,” Benrey informed him, preparing himself for the next round. Focus. Just chill and feel the Monster Energy Drink flow through your veins. And uh, win this time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re, uh. Really off your game tonight, huh Benrey?” Gordon asked after round five, when they were 5-0 (basically tied.) </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, no, why would you say that, idiot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, usually you kick my ass, every round…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh so you missin that? You want the old Benrey back, the one that kicks your ass to Xen and back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just saying,” Gordon said, voice nonthreatening and yet so, so threatening. Like, in a good way. Like, uh, all up in Benrey’s business kind of way. “You’re usually really good at this game, and now you kinda…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You kinda suck ass tonight, man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“WOW, GORDON.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need me to come teach you which buttons to press?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like you’d even know,” Benrey scoffed, kicking his Monster over and then cursing softly at it as it oozed all over the scuffed floor, green goo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Man down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A furious slurping sound could be heard from Benrey’s side, just absolute hogwild sipping noises.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, please tell me you’re not drinking soda off the floor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“M’not,” Benrey said, as he licked Monster off the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Good. Cool.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Monster.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey,” Gordon said, sounding irritated, but like… in a playful kind of way. Banter, good banter. Not like, angry with Benrey. That was good, cool, nice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could,” Benrey said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could come over. Teach me.” Teach him to use his controller, sure, whatever. Teach him a lot of things, probably. There had to be some useful knowledge in that big sexy brain of Gordon’s. Like, uh, in a sex way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh, yeah. Just gg, noob.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hurtful words, Gordon. You’re causing me pain.” A notification popped up, and Benrey glanced at his messages. “Yo, Tommy’s on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have Tommy added on here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy’s my bro, he’s cool.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell him I said hi.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell him yourself, loser.” And then a furious barking filled both their ears, headsets threatening to give out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sunkist says hi,” Tommy’s voice rang, very loud and very close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heeeey, Tommy,” Benrey said, “guess who we got here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi Tommy!” Gordon said, genuine excitement in his voice. Silence on Tommy’s end for a good minute. “Tommy, you uh… you there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, I was drinking a soda,” Tommy said. “It helps me game better. Hi Mr. Freeman.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey! How’ve you… how’ve you been?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve seen every tv show now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, that’s awesome!” And impossible!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Tommy,” Benrey said, “you uh, you hear about Gordon? Gordon Freeman?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Tommy said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guy on the news? You see the news?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Tommy said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh damn, Tommy off the shits!” Benrey laughed. Gordon was quiet for a solid minute while Benrey chatted up Tommy, and Tommy talked about the tv show he’d watched most recently, and Sunkist did a Black Mesa Sweet Voice Bark at them through his headset.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I gotta go,” Tommy said, after a few minutes, “I’m gonna walk Sunkist before it gets dark.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Benrey said, “see you uh, later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy disconnected, and it was just them again. Gordon was still being quiet, which was fucking freaky, he’d always been talking to himself in Black Mesa, muttering responses to nothing. Always movin those lips, you know? Mouth noises. Thanks for the donation, like and subscribe, pretending to be a Justin TV streamguy, apparently. Maybe it helped him get through Black Mesa, that video game streaming fantasy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Benrey,” Gordon said in his ear, “I’m gonna get some sleep. You should too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whuh, sleepy man. Sleepman, Gordon. You just woke up at like, three. Fuckin nine hours, that all you got?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should go to sleep anyway, it’s after midnight.” Gordon sounded concerned, which made Benrey feel some sort of something. Like mad, probably. Yeah, he was mad. Or whatever. “What time do you work?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Six.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus, Benrey, go to sleep!” And then Gordon disconnected just like that, like a light going out, little sad notification noise in Benrey’s ear. When the fuck was he going to get that Benrey didn’t sleep, didn’t need to sleep, could chug Zzzquil all day long and feel jazzed about it, not close his eyes for even a second? Idiot. Dumbdon Dumbman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Benrey watched Gordon go offline, played GTA5 until 5:30, got dressed, brushed his teeth, and headed out for work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Five days passed in a haze of Xen grass and games and Monster energy drinks. Benrey clocked in Monday morning at six sharp, ducked into the closet to toke up a bit, and clocked out mere moments later at five pm. On Friday. Normal shit. Speedrun. If you smoke in the broom closet, you can skip the entire work week cutscene. He could remember what he’d done that week if he thought about it--what games he’d played, how many Monsters he had left in the fridge at home, and what he’d done at work for the past five days, but other than that it was like… Boom, over. All achievements unlocked, too. His boss praised him for his hard work this week on the way out, and Benrey was all yup, I’m uh, good at guarding shit. Like he’d even been paying attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walked home, stopping only to pick up another case of Monster to stock the fridge, which he did as soon as he walked in the door. The fridge was a fussy little thing, either ran too cold or not at all, and he had it crammed wall to wall to ceiling with Monster cans, Monster cans in the door shelves too, a Monster can on its side in the butter compartment. Just the essentials. Got every flavor under the sun, too. Slurp slurp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was just cracking open a cold one, having changed into his sweats and hoodie, when he realized what day it was, really realized. Friday. Last Friday he’d been banging down Gordon’s front door to check on him. Today he realized it had been all week since he’d heard from him. What the fuck, really? Gorgor just goin back to his old ways, huh?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fucking annoying little human scientist bitch, Benrey decided, chugging his Monster down in one continuous gulp, and grabbing another from the fridge to take with him. Fucking dickbag idiot. He slid his Crocs on over his socks, stuffed his keys and shit in his hoodie pocket, made sure his hat was firmly on his head, and left his apartment for Gordon’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was kinda mad. Kinda. Thinking back on it, he hadn’t talked to Gordon since Monday at midnight, so like… The fuck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t bother knocking when he got there this time, just clipped through the door into a startlingly clean kitchen. Benrey froze up. Was he in the wrong apartment somehow? He popped his head back through the door to check the number.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey?” Gordon called from inside the apartment, and the guard peeked back in at him. “Hey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why’s your kitchen so clean,” Benrey asked pointedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, because I’ve been cleaning it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because it needed to be cleaned?” Gordon said, looking at him like he was a dumbass. Stupid dipshit, uh, idiot Benrey, huh? “I’ve been cleaning all week, actually…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No YOU’RE the stupidass,” Benrey grumbled at him, shoving past him into the living room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are those crocs?” Gordon snorted, as Benrey dropped onto his couch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re comfy. And waterproof.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I don’t think they’re either of those things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Try it. Try, uh, pour soda on my feet, you won’t. It’s waterproof.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right, I won’t,” Gordon laughed, turning to get a couple beers out of the fridge. Clean fridge. Full of foods, Benrey saw, as he followed Gordon with his eyes. Gordon passed him a cold beer, covered in cold sweat, condensation, whatever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve got a bottle opener somewh--okay, or just do that,” Gordon sighed, as Benrey bit the cap off his beer again and chugged it down fast. “Uh, okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gimme another.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get it yourself, man,” Gordon said, settling into the couch. Benrey huffed and stood, headed for the kitchen to grab a couple more beers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You good?” Gordon asked, as Benrey chugged those as well, opening his throat and taking down one bottle, then the next. “Uh… hard week at work?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey made an I’unno sound, shrugging his shoulders. “Just wanna be drunk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, well, I only have so much beer…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Brought some weed, too, so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, no, we’re not smoking that again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey stared at him. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wh--last time I was out for like, almost 24 hours, Benrey! I couldn’t move!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, cause you smoked too much. Little bitch boy. Shoulda stopped after like, two hits.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were the one who--fucking, nevermind, let’s blaze it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, Gordon’s gonna party.” Benrey brought out another little baggy, his rolling papers, and rolled a perfect little joint. “You wanna smoke it yourself, or--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck no, I’m not doing that again, let’s just shotgun it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, hot.” Benrey wasted no time climbing into Gordon’s lap, settling in nice and comfy. “Lighter,” he mumbled, digging in his hoodie pocket for it. He lit up, toked up, Gordon shut up, and Benrey breathed chronic straight into his mouth, lips brushing against each other for just a second, so briefly Gordon might not have noticed. But Benrey did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon kept his eyes open this time, squinted a bit as Benrey was exhaling into him, but managed not to black out, it appeared. “You want some more?” Benrey asked, taking another drag. Gordon nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just one more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool.” Benrey leaned forward again, eyes half lidded. Staring at Gordon, all eyes on science guy, and Gordon was looking right back at him, pupils dilated. Yeah, he was starting to feel it, no doubt. Just one more hit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuuuuuck,” Gordon breathed, when Benrey sat back again. “Kay, think that’s enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How you feel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feels good… Feels like… Like Nyquil. Like a lot of Nyquil.” Gordon gave a little snort, his chest jumping a bit. Benrey started to move off his lap to sit beside him again, when Gordon said the stupidest thing possible. “You could fit anything in me right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a crash as Benrey fell off Gordon’s lap and knocked over the coffee table. “Whoa, you good?” Gordon asked, moving to help him up, but Benrey swatted him away like an angry cat and scuttled back towards the TV.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The fuck, Gordon, mmmuh, uh, Gaydon Fuckman, you think you can just say that shit to me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? It’s an internet post, a joke--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not funny!” Benrey yelled, acutely aware of the fact that he was whining. Loudly. “You’re always teasing me like that, so fucking mean, pulling my hair and shit, and now you say--say that, and it’s like, what the fuck do you want from me, you say you want me to go away, go away friend Benrey, and then you tell me come back, and then you’re saying that I could </span>
  <em>
    <span>fit anything in you?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Do you know what that does to me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Christ, Benrey, I’m sorry, it was a reference.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re hurting my feelings!” Benrey roared at him, and kicked his downed coffee table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry. For being inconsiderate of your… desires. I know…” Gordon gulped, uncomfortable, clearly. “I know you have a thing for me--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, no I don’t. Cringe. Gay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey, you’ve tried to kiss me so many times--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I’ve been so good since then!” Benrey cried, yanking his beanie down over his eyes. “I’ve been a good, good Benrey boy, and I keep waiting for my reward, and you never, ever give it to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. I’m sorry about that too, that must be really frustrating--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“IT IS!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But things are really complicated right now, Benrey, I can’t just go… charging into something like that. I can’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Meanman,” Benrey said, lying down on the floor with his beanie over his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we gonna play video games or what,” Gordon sighed, when Benrey had laid there for a good five minutes. Benrey didn’t answer. Gordon sighed again, slid off the couch onto the floor, and laid down beside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, homo alert,” Benrey muttered, as Gordon tugged his beanie back up, then off. “Hey, don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your hair is so weird. Looks like nothing.” It was really hitting Gordon now, Benrey thought. Stupid ass. Couldn’t hold his Xen weed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fucking rude ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, like a… like a black hole. Like if I stick my hand in it, it’ll just vani…”  Gordon trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable with that line of thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Touch it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I don’t think so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know you wanna. Mister, uh, hypotenuse. Pypo….thesis. Test out your theories, see what happens.” Then he whined. “Come on, you touched it before, it was fine, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon steeled himself and placed a hand on Benrey’s head, touching his hair lightly. It was… not nothing. There was definitely hair, thick strands of individual filament, not just a blob of void floating on Benrey’s head. Felt so weird, so soft, and Gordon ran his fingers over it, rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, separating out the strands, not quite ignoring the way Benrey’s breath hitched in his throat, but certainly not facing it head on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought it would be all… Wiry, or like ink, or something.” Gordon mumbled, scooching closer. Benrey held his breath, hands folded on his chest. “Your hair is really soft, Benrey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, cause I use, uh, baby shampoo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Weird.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tastes good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re nasty,” Gordon laughed, leaning in and sniffing Benrey’s hair. “Yeah, it does smell like baby shampoo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon,” Benrey said sharply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then Benrey rolled closer and grabbed him, pulled him down, and kissed him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. i'm gonna be the man who's coming home with you.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>at this point in the story I am going to ask you to double check the tags, not only before this chapter, but before every subsequent chapter, as things are going to start to turn darker after this! Thank you!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Are we going to talk about this?” Gordon snapped, pacing. He crossed back and forth through the living room and kitchen, nervous energy flowing off him. Apparently, being kissed had sobered him up really fast, because he couldn’t feel any of the effects of Xen weed anymore, just anxiety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, no, we’re gonna go get more booze? Please?” Benrey said, licking at the mouth of the last remaining beer bottle. Gordon glanced at him, watched his tongue lapping at the glass, tried not to remember if that was his beer or not. Fucking, probably! Knowing Benrey, it was the one he’d drank off of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we need to talk about what just happened,” Gordon said: pacing, slowing, then speeding up. His heart was pounding, brain rushing ahead; he finally got what Tommy meant about seeing faster, but he hadn’t even had any soda. Maybe he’d got a Monster contact high from Benrey kissing him, but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yo, earth to Gordon, let’s just go, let’s walk out, go get some booze, I wanna be drunk. Let’s go.” Benrey stepped into his path, Gordon swerved, and Benrey grabbed his shirt. “You wanna be drunk too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! I want to know why the fuck you kissed me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, what? You were putting out signals.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh-what what kind of signals was I putting out?! All I did was touch your hair, like you asked me to!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And sniff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Fair,” Gordon said carefully, “but you shouldn’t just… kiss someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kissed you all the time at Black Mesa. ‘S what friends do, loser.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Friends don’t do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh man, you don’t kiss your besties, your bros? You never kiss the homies? Nerd?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Friends don’t do what you just did, Benrey, that wasn’t a--a friend kiss!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know,” Benrey said, chucking the beer bottle at Gordon’s trash can. It bounced off and hit the floor, shattered. “Whoa, sick, slam dunk. Three, uh, five pointer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t even make it in,” Gordon said, and tried not to laugh. He was kind of mad at himself, too, for even wanting to laugh and joke around right now. Like, brain, can we please get on the same page here? “Benrey, I don’t want you to kiss me again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not without my permission.” Gordon added quickly, and then almost immediately backpedaled yet again. “I mean, not that I would give you permission. We’re not going to kiss. But if I did, you could. But you can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not making sense,” Benrey informed, licking his teeth in a way that was vaguely threatening and also kind of thrilling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just don’t do it again!” Gordon huffed, locating the broom to clean up the mess of glass before he sliced his foot open. Benrey crunched around in his crocs, making it worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found himself calmer once he’d cleaned up the mess, like he’d managed to sweep up the stress and shock as well. He dumped the dustpan into the trash and turned to find Benrey lounged on his counter, feet dangling off the edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna go get drunk with friend Benrey or what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Gordon sighed in defeat. “But you drank most of that, so you’re paying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poordon No-Moneyman,” Benrey said, hopping off the counter, “got your little miserly empty pockets turned out, all boohoo spare some coochie, kind sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go,” Gordon said, locking the door behind them as they headed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Gordon’s surprise, Benrey didn’t head straight for the convenience store to buy the cheapest shit he could find; instead he veered off and led the way to the nearest liquor store. “Get your passport out, Babyface Babyman,” Benrey warned, pushing open the door and leading him inside. Gordon huffed, patting his pocket to make sure his wallet was still there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He winced when Benrey asked for a bottle of brandy behind the counter, and picked out a bottle of rum for himself as Benrey harassed the clerk with talk of PlayStation Plus. They both handed over their ID’s as was the law, and the clerk kind of glanced at them, bored--then looked sharply back at Gordon’s, as if recognizing his name. They looked up at Gordon’s face, and he steeled himself, afraid that if he moved a muscle he’d end up just running, top speed, as far away as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the moment passed, Benrey paid with cash, their liquor was bagged up, and they were back out in the night air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chill out,” Benrey said, before Gordon could even say anything. “S’not like anyone but me knows where you live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a terrifying thought to plant in my mind, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, little pussy ass…. Pineapple rum boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay, sure, why the fuck did you buy brandy?” Gordon asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, cause I wanna be drunk? Duh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a really high tolerance, don’t you,” Gordon said, as Benrey tore the cap off his bottle of brandy with ease. “Dude, don’t drink out here, that’s illegal. I thought you loved the law.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love, uh… being drunk,” Benrey said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well, if a real cop pulls up and sees you drinking that, I’m pretending not to know you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pussy. Drink your, uh, pirate juice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon glared at him as Benrey drank, his adam’s apple bobbing as brandy surged down his throat. Benrey downed a quarter of the bottle all at once before he stopped, breathing hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better,” he decided. He laughed a little, not his loud, annoying laugh, but a nice soft chuckle. Fuck it, Gordon decided, twisting open the bottle of rum and taking a swig. He would have more fun being drunk with Benrey than he would chasing him around sober, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him about ten minutes to realize that they weren’t headed back to his place, that his apartment was in the other direction entirely, but the thought wasn’t concerning. Gordon had decided as much. Benrey wouldn’t lead him anywhere dangerous, probably, and besides that, uh… Man, whatever. He could probably find his way home later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Check it, free couch,” Benrey said, plopping onto the ruined piece of furniture. It sagged under him and collapsed. “Oh fuck, help me bitches.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon laughed, clutching his left side with his left hand, the half empty bottle of rum with his right. “Fucking, Benrey, what the fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Help me, I fell down and I can’t get it up.” Gordon laughed harder as Benrey dragged himself up out of the pile of couch rubble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They meandered, wandering through back alleys, kicking over trash cans on occasion, mostly on accident. Gordon found himself humming some tune, then making guitar mouth sounds as Benrey stared at him, watching and waiting, tapping his hand on his thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I wake up,” Gordon sang, in his best attempt at a Scottish accent, “well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you. When I go out, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you. If I--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“GET DRUNK,” Benrey joined in, “well I know I’m gonna be,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you!” Gordon sang, heart soaring. Maybe it was the rum, but he didn’t even feel like telling Benrey to be quiet, people were sleeping and all but who cared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“AND IF I HAVER… HEY I KNOW I’M GONNA BE, I’m gonna be the man who’s havering to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“AND I WOULD WALK FIVE HUDNRED MILES,” sang Gordon, walking along to the unheard beat of the song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“AND I WOULD WALK FIVE HUNDRED MORE,” Benrey shouted, “JUS’ TO BE THE MAN. WALK FIVE HUNDRED MILES--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a thousand!” Gordon laughed, falling against his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“DA DA DA!” Benrey skipped the line and sang, as loud as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“DA DA DA!” Gordon sang back, and then together:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Da da da la da da la da da la da da duh dah!” Benrey was playing air guitar, totally off rhythm, but it was funny, it was fun, and Gordon could hardly see straight, he was laughing so hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They finished off the song somehow, kind of out of order, leaning on each other for support. Benrey pulled away, wheezing and still humming the tune to himself, sipping the last of his brandy between bars, as Gordon tripped over another garbage can, spilling the contents everywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Messy boy,” Benrey said, without turning to look. He only noticed that Gordon wasn’t with him when he heard the sound of an aerosol can, a steady, continuous hiss. Benrey looked back to find Gordon tagging the wall of the alley with the can of bright orange spray paint he’d found in the trash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tadah,” Gordon said, standing back to show Benrey his creation. HAMBURGLER HURGLER, the wall read.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, uh, you can’t do that,” Benrey said. “You gotta clean it up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or what? You gonna arrest me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, duh yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not even a cop,” Gordon said, tossing the spray paint can at him. “Do it, arrest me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, you asked for it. I’m gonna do a citizen’s arrest, so watch out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon was prepared for Benrey to maybe, like, wrestle him a bit, but not for him to press up against his back and push him into the wall, just inches from the wet paint. “You’re, uh, such a bad guy,” Benrey said. “I’m taking you in. Gonna get, mmm, BIG reward for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck the police!” Gordon cried, kicking at him and missing every time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon was laughing, and stopped abruptly. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I been dropping hints… You could. You could do whatever. I’d let you do anything to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had nowhere to run, or hide, couldn’t even cover his ears, not with Benrey pinning his hands behind his back. “You don’t gotta say anything,” Berey continued, and Gordon felt a weight on his back, between his shoulder blades. Benrey’s head, resting there. “I just, ugh, I like you a lot. And you’re so weird, you’re always mean and unpredictable… Makes me mad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Benrey,” Gordon said, “let me go, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey released him without a fight and backed up, drunk and sullen. Gordon turned to face him. He just looked hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Benrey,” Gordon said, reaching for him against his better judgement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No it’s not. I’m sorry you’re hurt. I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey lifted his head a bit, eyes dark, watching and waiting. “I shouldn’t… shouldn’t be mean to you,” Gordon said. “No one likes that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey shrugged noncommittally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like you too, Benrey,” Gordon said, stepping closer, resting his hands on Benrey’s shoulders. “I just… I don’t know what to do about it,” he murmured, as he leaned in to press their lips together briefly. And then again, less of a friendly peck and more of a soft, melting kiss. Benrey leaned into him, raised his hands and wound his fingers into Gordon’s hair, stumbling forward to push Gordon’s back against the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What the fuck, said the still somewhat rational part of Gordon’s brain. Like, two hours ago, he’d told Benrey not to kiss him again, and now he was instigating it himself, and making out drunk in some alley. But it felt good, said the rest of his brain, the tired, lonely, touch-starved, drunk, kind of horny part of him. Maybe this was just what he needed. Benrey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey’s thigh slipped between his, pressing lightly, and Gordon jolted a bit at the realization that, uh, yeah, he was about half hard now. And, just judging by the way Benrey whined and pressed against him, he probably was, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanna,” Benrey panted, when Gordon finally pushed him away to breathe a little, “I wanna do things for you. To you. Fuck, just let me touch you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon’s willpower wavered before his eyes. Hard not to, when he was rocking a chub and Benrey was still mostly pressed against him, gazing at him with such dark, wanting eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… not here, though,” Gordon said. “I don’t want it to be here.” Good, rational brain hissed, walk home, lose interest. Sober up a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could go to my place,” Benrey mumbled. “Not far from here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon only stopped to think about it for a moment, fighting back his rational brain. He nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By “not far” Benrey apparently meant “I live on the next block over,” which was just enough of a walk for Gordon to start feeling anxious. Still turned on, following Benrey as he dragged him along by the hand, still drunk as fuck, but nervous. Benrey led him down a short flight of stairs from the sidewalk and into his apartment, garden level with the little prison windows at the top of his walls, makeshift curtains drawn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon stood awkwardly near the door while Benrey kicked off his crocs and took one final swig from his brandy. “C’mere,” he said, sitting on the edge of his mattress, placed directly on the linoleum floor. He patted the wrinkled, threadbare sheets invitingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t be such a fucking pussy, Dr. Pussy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gordon told himself, walking forward and following suit. Benrey leaned over, took the bottle of rum out of his hand, and set it on the floor next to his empty brandy. He leaned in towards Gordon again, dark eyes half lidded, and Gordon had never realized how long and thick his lashes were before, but now…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gonna be a bro and kiss me, Gordon?” Benrey asked. “Be a good friend, give Benrey a reward?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been losing his chub, but at that, Gordon’s dick gave a little twinge in his pants. A reward? “For what,” he asked, buying time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been good. So good, you know I have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was kind of fucking hot. Benrey’s voice had taken on a desperate, whiny tone, and his pupils were huge, eyes slightly unfocused, as if he were having a hard time thinking with Gordon so close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want a kiss, Benrey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The noise Benrey let out on his exhale was criminal. Fuck graffiti, whatever, Gordon was going to have to make a citizens arrest on </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>now, for the way his voice had come out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give Benrey friend a kiss? Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can ask nicer than that.” Gordon was being mean, he knew it, teasing, dragging Benrey along, but Benrey made that sound again, the noise that made Gordon’s dick jump in his briefs, and then nodded, licking his lips and breathing a little hard through his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Gordon, kiss me. Please let m--mph.” Whatever he’d been about to say was gone, lost against Gordon’s lips, but Benrey didn’t seem to mind the interruption one bit, just leaned into him, pulling Gordon as close as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why wasn’t I doing this before, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gordon wondered, feeling his stress and fear melt in Benrey’s mouth. Benrey wasn’t shy about using tongue, apparently, dragging it against Gordon’s and drawing a moan out of him. Gordon leaned back, pulling Benrey onto the mattress with him, and the guard wasted no time in climbing on top of him and straddling his hips. Gordon thought nothing of it, until Benrey ground down into him, pressing against his erection and for the first time, he had to think about Benrey’s dick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, not the </span>
  <em>
    <span>first </span>
  </em>
  <span>time, but it was definitely the first he’d thought of it in a few minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel Benrey through the handful of layers that separated them; his briefs and sweats, Benrey’s lounge pants, printed with some pattern so worn out it was indecipherable. And on the other side of all that, Gordon could feel him hard and twitching, almost throbbing against him through their clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey wasn’t acting at all affected, though, as he pulled away to breathe for a second. Immediately the guard started talking, more nonsense. “Uh, poggers. Nice mouth bro. Solid eight out of ten. Would kiss again, liked and subscribed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon grabbed onto Benrey’s hands, splayed on his chest, and with a little effort, flipped them over. Benrey blinked up at him, and a lazy smile spread across his face. “Ooh, Freeman, you gonna take the lead? Cause uh, I’m down for that. I’m down for whatever. I’ll get down on all fours if you want--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me how bad you want it,” Gordon said, and watched as Benrey’s pupils shrank, then flooded his dark irises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me now. How bad do you want me?” Gordon pressed his hips down, pushed his hardon against Benrey’s, and felt him jump.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oooh, fuck, so bad. I’ve wanted you so bad, for so long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep going, Benrey,” Gordon warned. He hadn’t said it but the implication was there; beg for it or he’d walk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Benrey hissed, bucking his hips up. “Bossin me around and shit. Bein so mean. Uh, fuckin… Wanted to do this ages ago. Want you so bad.” Gordon leaned down and silenced him, pressed their lips back together, and Benrey shuddered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Gordon pulled up again, Benrey was quiet, breathing hard. Watching him, waiting. Gordon licked his lips and sat up to begin tugging Benrey’s pants down. The guard lifted his ass a bit to help, exposing the curve of his lower abdomen, followed by his hip bones, dipping sharply, and then, just as Gordon was starting to wonder where his underwear began, his dick was out, hard and leaking a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t wear underwear,” Gordon said in disbelief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, what? This from the guy with his dick out in the hevvvv suit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the same thing and you know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bro, you gonna touch me or what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon did just that, curled his hand around Benrey’s cock, pumping up from the base to the mostly covered tip, down to peel the foreskin back a bit--and Benrey groaned, loud and unmuffled by Gordon’s lips, eyes fluttering shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, yeah, Gordon that feels so good,” Benrey mumbled, rocking his hips in time with Gordon’s strokes. Gordon’s hand slowed until Benrey began to whine and beg again, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please, Doctor Freeman, be so good to Benrey?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t deserve this,” Gordon said, stroking him hard and fast. “You’re such a bad boy, Benrey, you don’t deserve to have me touching you.” What the fuck was he saying, Gordon wondered in the back of his mind. He’d literally just promised to be nicer--but Benrey’s dick jumped, and his own hardon throbbed, so it must have been okay to say, right? It was good, cool. Fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oooh, oh fuck,” Benrey choked, "G-gordon--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should be on your knees, sucking me off.” Benrey nodded eagerly, biting his lip</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, I’m bad, uh, punish me. Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon squeezed and Benrey let out a strangled sound as he held his hand in place, unmoving. “Sh-shit, bro,” Benrey stammered. “Uh, I’m close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t get to cum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was like watching through a filter, or a migraine, or a VR Headset; he could see Benrey, mostly, but he was hazy around the edges, kind of flickering. He watched himself let Benrey up, watched Benrey get down on his knees to yank down his pants and briefs, start sucking him off, but it barely felt real to him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>probably too drunk,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he told himself. Benrey started to reach to jack himself off and Gordon saw himself grab his wrists, one then the other, and pin them to the mattress firmly for a moment to get his point across.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He returned to reality as he was fucking Benrey’s mouth, a hand on the back of his head, yanking his hair. Benrey’s throat swallowed and constricted around him, gagged a bit, and he quickly let up and released the back of Benrey’s head, only for the guard to grab his wrist and put it back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like this, Benrey?” he asked, cock twitching in the guard’s throat. Benrey made a low, deep sound in his throat in response. “Oh, fuck. Yeah, good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever dialogue he’d had going with Benrey a minute ago had dissolved; Gordon could no longer form coherent sentences, only groans and grunts as he thrust his hips forward. “Gonna cum,” he warned, and Benrey gave him a thumbs up, a confirmation that made him feel slightly less shitty about fucking his face so hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A throaty sound from Benrey pushed him over the edge, and he came hard, clutching the back of Benrey’s head and holding him at the base of his cock. It took him a minute to come back to reality, and then he barely avoided toppling off the mattress, only just managed to fall forward instead of backwards. Benrey still hadn’t cum, was waiting permission, holy fucking Christ.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you… you want help with that?” Gordon asked, post nut clarity creeping up on him quickly. Benrey nodded and moved closer, and Gordon reached over to stroke him, not so mean this time around, until Benrey thrust his hips forward and groaned, coming on his t-shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey lay panting for a few minutes, then got up. Gordon looked over his shoulder to see him digging through a fridge stuffed to the brim with Monster energy, pull one out and chug it in under ten seconds. He chucked the can at his trash bin, sinking the shot, returned to the fridge for two more, and brought one to Gordon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh. Thanks,” Gordon said, not so sure about drinking Monster at whatever time of night it was now. Benrey sat on the edge of the mattress and picked up his PS3 controller to play a game.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna try to sleep a little,” Gordon said, when Benrey tried to hand him player 2, and the guard shrugged, set the controller back on the floor, and loaded up Grand Theft Auto. Gordon rolled over, barely hearing the sounds of gunfire and gameplay over the rushing in his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What the fuck had he just done? First of all, what was that? The whole, domineering shit, not letting Benrey cum when he was close? Calling him bad, bullying him during--during whatever the fuck that was? Secondly--oh, welcome back, rational brain--second, why hadn’t he stopped at kissing? Why did they have to progress past that, so fast no less?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Actually, rewind: why had he kissed Benrey? What was up with that? Gordon Freeman, you fucking suck at setting boundaries, his brain berated him, and you’re worse at keeping them. Had he not said before that he wasn’t ready to dive into something like this? He wasn’t! He might look fine, physically, but mentally, emotionally, he was still trying to escape Black Mesa, still missing his hand, and still squeezing the trigger as hard as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck yeah, gimme your car,” Benrey muttered, and Gordon took his glasses off to try to sleep the night out of existence.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. hallucinations only mean that your brain is on fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Remember to reread the tags before proceeding!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“So where are we taking this Freeman guy?” A voice cut through the silence of Benrey’s apartment, and Gordon awoke, groggy and confused. His chest felt heavy, like something was holding him down. He tried to turn his head and found he couldn’t; only his eyes darted around, looking for Benrey.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuck this, sleep paralysis. Why now? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Topside for questioning,” another voice said, and Gordon strained his eyes trying to see where it was coming from. Behind him, he concluded, at the head of the mattress. Where had he heard these voices before, they sounded so familiar--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell for? We got him. Let’s kill him now,” the first voice said, and Gordon remembered. The HECU marines. How had they gotten in here--why were they here--and where the fuck was Benrey?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He sold you out again,</span>
  </em>
  <span> his brain supplied, and Gordon panicked, trying to move, to run, to check if he still had his hand or not, but he was trapped in place, listening to the two marines talk about how they were going to murder him without getting found out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was going to die. He was going to fucking die, after surviving all that. And Benrey had crossed him again, and somehow that was worse. A high pitched noise forced itself out of his throat, a sob that he couldn’t quite voice all the way, and tears burned on his cheeks as he stared up at Benrey’s ceiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minutes passed, but it felt like longer. The marines were still talking. Maybe, if he could just get his legs to move, he could get away this time. This time. How many more times would he have to go through this before it was done? Black Mesa, the resonance cascade, losing his hand, death, so much death--when was he supposed to be able to rest from all that?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He made a whining noise, a plea for help, mercy. Anything. At the edge of his vision, something moved, a door opening, as Benrey stepped out of the dark bathroom and crossed over to the bed to plop back down on it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon managed another strained sound, and Benrey rolled over to look at him, confused and then concerned. “Whuh, Gordon? Bro, you’re crying, what’s up?” When Gordon didn’t answer, just looked at him, Benrey reached out and jostled his shoulder. “Gordon? You, uh, you hurt? You okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon’s whimpers increased, and Benrey scooted closer, stroking his hair, until he managed to open his mouth and suck in a shaking sob of a breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay?” Benrey asked again, and Gordon shook his head, now that he could move it a bit. “What’s goin on? You, uh, cold?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey,” was all Gordon said, urging him closer, something solid and warm to hold onto, the guy who had double crossed him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” Benrey asked, holding him without question. “Uh, hungry?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I couldn’t move,” Gordon gritted out. “I was having sleep paralysis.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I thought you’d betrayed me again, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he didn’t say, because that seemed kind of unnecessarily mean when Benrey was hugging him now, stroking his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, you’re good now though, right?” Benrey asked. “I mean, if you’re not whatevs, I’m here, but…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m okay,” Gordon said, “yeah, I’m fine. I’m good now. Do you know what time it is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Five eleven,” Benrey said without checking, and fuck, whatever, Gordon believed him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Cool. I think I’m gonna shower,” Gordon said, making no move to get up. He was positive that if he tried to stand now, his legs would just give out. Benrey was dead silent, and when Gordon lifted his head to check, the guard was staring at him again, eyes glinting in the dark. Kind of creepy. Kind of cute.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After about twenty minutes, Gordon pulled away to sit up. Benrey sat up too, watching him carefully. “Shower’s this way?” Gordon asked, pointing towards the door Benrey had come out of just a while before, and Benrey nodded. “Okay. Cool.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shut the bathroom door behind himself and flipped on the lights, half expecting to have a bunch of headcrabs launched at him as he did so. But the bathroom was empty, just a shower and a sink and toilet, a towel hung on a hook by the shower and a toothbrush and toothpaste by the sink. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Say what you will about Benrey,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gordon thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>at least he keeps his teeth clean.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He undressed and turned the water on, waiting for it to reach a mind numbing heat, then climbed in and stood under the spray. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re fine, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he reminded himself, looking down at his hand and rubbing his forearm. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s over. It’s not going to happen again. You’re fine. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But it wasn’t fine, it wasn’t over. If it was over, if he was really okay, he wouldn’t be trapped in this waking nightmare. What the fuck was even going on with him, anyway? He’d been doing so good over the past week; his apartment was clean, he’d applied for a couple jobs, he’d been fine until today, when Benrey came over. It was like it came in waves, a sea of viscous sickness that washed over him, made him all fucked up and depressed, made him remember in excruciating detail what it was like to lose his hand, remember the fear of being shot at, running from the US military, and then the waves would pull back to reveal a long, clean, pristine beach, like all was well again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The light in the bathroom flickered, and Gordon blinked, shook his head. He ought to wash up, get dressed, and go home. He was fine at home, nevermind that right now all he wanted to do was curl up on the couch and sleep until he didn’t hurt anymore. Things were good there. Safe. No one looked at him, perceived him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe this wasn’t working. Maybe he wasn’t getting better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bathroom door opened, and he didn’t quite have the energy to jump or yell at Benrey as he barged in. He didn’t have the energy for anything really, still hadn’t sudsed up, just stood in the water until his skin hurt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey didn’t say anything, but Gordon could see him through the frosted glass, sitting on the edge of the counter, waiting for him. It was still an invasion of privacy, but at least he wasn’t noclipping through the shower door to tell him to hurry up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanna play Grand Theft Auto?” Benrey asked, when Gordon finally turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. “You look like, uh, beet. Beetroot. All red and shit.” Gordon turned, grabbing the singular towel in the bathroom (who was he to judge, he wasn’t doing any better) and wrapping himself in it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, I think I should go home. I had some stuff to finish up--maybe we can voice chat later, though?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Benrey said sadly, clipping ass first through the sink and staying there. Gordon picked up his clothes and inched past him to the bedroom/living room situation to get dressed again. Benrey joined him, passing through the wall and picking up the towel Gordon had dropped, sniffing it deeply. Gordon didn’t have the heart to tell him not to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, have a good… morning,” Gordon said, waving from the doorway. Benrey had his back to him, was booting up a GTA game. Fine, whatever. Sulk, see if Gordon cared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You could stand to be a lot nicer, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the annoying voice in Gordon’s head reminded him, as he headed up the stairs to the sidewalk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, I could be a lot meaner, too,” he mumbled, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pockets as he started walking. He wasn’t really sure which way he was going at first, but quickly got his bearings and started for home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Upon entering his apartment, the first thing Gordon did was fall face-down on the couch and pass out for six more hours. He awoke groggy, still tired, and forced himself back up to find something else to clean. There was always something to clean, something to keep his idle hands moving. And if there were no messes to be cleaned up, well, he’d make a mess.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Boo, Gordon pathetic moments,” he muttered to himself, as he took everything out of the kitchen cupboards to clean out the insides.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The weekend was good. Slow, but good. He wanted to sleep all the time, but good. He couldn’t keep going like this, but good. Pam was going to bring Joshua over for dinner Sunday night, so that Gordon could see him, and no doubt so that she could scold him for something. Maybe Joshie had started repeating shit Benrey said, who knew. Six o’clock, she’d said, and so at five thirty, Gordon began prepping dinner, chopping up vegetables (look at how healthy he was, look at how good he was doing, he was not rotting, not a corpse, not dead in Black Mesa) as the oven preheated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey bro, you should uh, chop your hand off, </span>
  </em>
  <span>said a voice right by his ear, and Gordon froze. It was Benrey’s voice, but he hadn’t heard him come in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not funny,” Gordon said, slicing carefully through a carrot, making little uneven chunks out of it. “Don’t you have anything better to do than torment me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, uh, you should really chop your hand off.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Knock it off!” Gordon yelled, setting the knife down to turn and face him--but the kitchen was empty. Just him. “Benrey?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You need help? Little Babyman needs help to chop his baby arm off? Just pick up the knife, chop it off.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck,” Gordon groaned, turning in circles to try to locate the source of the voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Do it do it do it, chop it off, Gordon, and I’ll leave you alone, we’ll all leave you alone.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fucking stop it!” Gordon yelped, holding his hands to his face--and quickly chucked the knife back on the cutting board, not sure when he’d picked it up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Do it, do it, do it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the voice chanted, unending, words blurring into each other. The room was spinning, and Gordon was like, ninety percent positive it wasn’t real, he wasn’t at home, he was still in Black Mesa, still running, still hiding, still killing. Any second now someone would tell him, this was where we were manufacturing our simulator of your life outside!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“STOP!” he screamed, picking up the knife again, in his left hand. “This what you want? Is this what you fucking want?!” He knew exactly where to press it, knew right where his arm had been severed the first time. So he pressed down, biting his lip, aware of the high pitched sound worming out of his throat, until a bead of blood rolled down his arm, and the voice kept talking, laughing Benrey’s boisterous laugh--and he realized, the laugh was coming from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He threw the knife away again, gasping for air, staggered away from the counter to be sick. Oh fuck. What the fuck. Everything was spinning, and his arm--he had to check to make sure it was still there. Bleeding, but there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon forced himself to his feet, muttering his mantra, “I’m okay. I’m okay. Don’t look at me.” He stopped in the bathroom to bandage up his wound, then changed into a hoodie to cover up the evidence. What time was it? Five fifty five, his phone informed him, just as the knock came at the door. Fuck, she was early. She was always early, he was always late, that’s why they hadn’t worked out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s why, uh, you should be with friend Benrey, </span>
  </em>
  <span>said Benrey’s voice in his brain, which Gordon was pretty sure wasn’t really there. Just a new symptom of his trauma, which was good, cool. Nice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused on his way to the door to look over the puddle of sickness, and threw a towel on top of it. That was a problem for Gordon several seconds from now, he decided, opening the door to let Pam and Joshua in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dinner was eventful. Too much. Joshua didn’t notice the towel-covered pile of puke on the floor on his way to get Gordon’s PS3 booted up, but Pam did, and chewed him out over it. Gordon did his best to ignore her, hands shaking as he finished chopping carrots--he knew this was how she showed concern, but the last thing he needed right now was someone telling him he wasn’t doing well. He KNEW he wasn’t doing well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon,” Pam gasped, and he gave her an annoyed look as she grabbed his arm, ow, stop. “Are you bleeding?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, no,” Gordon lied, instinctively covering the cut. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>bleeding, right through the bandage and the hoodie, the fuck? Where was a medkit when you needed one. He lifted his head to meet her gaze, and he must have looked truly panicked, because Pam just reached past him to turn off the stove, then led him down the hallway to the bathroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nothing, I just nicked myself,” Gordon lied, as Pam hunted for his first aid kit and he pulled his hoodie off. It was clearly not nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So do you want to tell me how you got this?” Pam asked, peeling off the patch band aid he’d slapped onto it, ignoring Gordon’s hiss of discomfort. “Or are you going to keep lying to me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was an accident,” Gordon said. “Obviously.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, obviously,” Pam said, “you just tripped and fell into a garbage disposal, is that it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not that bad,” Gordon said, but he held out his arm to let her bandage it back up with gauze and tape. Pam sighed as she stood, satisfied with her work, and leaned against the counter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here, Gordon,” she said, rubbing her temples. “I can’t… ignore what you’re doing to yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just dealing with a lot right now,” Gordon said, which had been his go-to excuse for the past month. Maybe longer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t feel comfortable leaving you here alone, or leaving Joshua here alone with you,” Pam said quietly. “If your boyfriend was here--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey and I are just friends,” Gordon said, laughing nervously. Pam looked at him in disbelief and annoyance, the same way she looked at Joshua when he lied. “Well, uh, we’re not… not dating, or anything, so…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you thought about… I don’t know, checking yourself in somewhere?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not an option,” Gordon said quickly. Being around civilians, people who potentially knew his name and face and that he’d been at Black Mesa, that wasn’t an option.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then you need someone here, with you, to keep an eye on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t need a babysitter,” Gordon said, defensively. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, I think you do,” Pam said, which was the end of the conversation, apparently. “Call your boyfriend and tell him to come over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not--!” Gordon hissed, as Pam intercepted Joshua in the hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m hungry,” Joshua said, “I want pizza.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s order a pizza,” Pam said, scooping him up, “and then daddy’s going to call his friend over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon sighed, rubbing his face with his hand, and went to find his phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yoooo,” Benrey said, answering his call on the fourth ring, “what’s up Feetman?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, hey, how’s it... How’s it going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not bad, not bad… playing co op with Tommy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Yeah, I won’t bother you then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Tommy, I gotta go,” Benrey said, and Gordon heard his mattress squeak in the background as he presumably flopped down on it. “What’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you, uh… Could you come over, maybe?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why,” Benrey asked, “you missin’ me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m… I’m not doing too good, Benrey.” When Benrey didn’t respond, he kept going. “I’m, uh. In need of a babysitter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You a little baby now? Gonna cry if I say no, Baby Freeman?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey, can you just come over?” Gordon asked, annoyance creeping into his tone. How was it Benrey could be so sweet in the morning and then such a little jackass later?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Say please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please </span>
  </em>
  <span>just get your ass over here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My ass is coming but no guarantees on the rest of me,” Benrey said, and hung up. Not even a </span>
  <em>
    <span>goodbye</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or a </span>
  <em>
    <span>see you in a minute</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Unbelievable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He joined Joshua and Pam in the living room, where he was informed that pizza was on its way. Joshua started explaining the plot of Cowboys 20 to him, which Gordon argued was not a game, but that Joshua insisted was, and that it had “more cowboys than ever before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A knock came at the door sometime later, and Gordon got up to answer and tip the delivery guy. Instead, he found Benrey waiting for him, holding onto a pizza box.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bro, uh, some dude just gave this to me? Only threatened him a little. You want some?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get in here,” Gordon sighed, wrestling the pizza box out of Benrey’s hands. Benrey paused in the kitchen, spotting Pam and Joshua on the couch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thought you were just having me over,” he said, a somewhat sulky tone to his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry to disappoint,” Gordon said, setting the pizza on the counter and digging out some paper plates. Joshua came running into the kitchen to get a slice, hopping from foot to foot as Gordon served him up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you here?” Joshua asked Benrey calmly, once he’d been handed a plate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was invited,” Benrey said snootily, and sneered down at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Daddy Gorgor, why did you invite this clown?” Joshua asked his father next, and Gordon choked trying to hold back a laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“RUDE,” Benrey complained, snatching the next plate out of Gordon’s hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go sit down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not very good with kids, are you Barney?” Pam asked, leaning against the edge of the counter. Benrey shot her a dirty look as he sat on the armrest of the sofa.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mneh, meh meh neh muh neh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Benrey</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Knock it off,” Gordon warned, settling in on the couch. Benrey slid off the armrest and nearly knocked the pizza out of his hands, trying to sit on him. Pam covered her laugh with a cough. It was a nice moment, a normal feeling. It definitely didn’t feel as though the day had started out with hallucinations, or like he’d tried to chop his hand off, Gordon thought. No, everything was good. Just fine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pam set Joshua up with his PS3 after he finished eating, plugged in Gordon’s headphones and let him put them on--which was how Gordon knew he was about to get chewed out again. And sure enough, once Joshie was involved in his game, she turned to Gordon (and Benrey, who was still trying very hard to worm his way into his lap) and addressed the trumpeting Xen beast in the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to tell your boyfriend what happened?” she said, and Benrey did a little fist pump.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck yeah, Pamgela ships it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not my boyfriend,” Gordon said, trying to shove Benrey away. “He’s like--like a service dog, if anything. An annoying one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoa, you mean it? Prommy? Prommy you’ll buy me a leash and a kennel, haha bark bark dude.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you not? Do BDSM in front of our son?” Pam hissed, squeezing the bridge of her nose. As if Gordon was the one who was doing anything! </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, woof woof,” Benrey continued, as Gordon groaned, tilting his head back. Benrey settled in on his thighs, crocs on the middle couch cushion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon cut himself,” Pam said, and Gordon jerked his head back up and made a furious noise in the back of his throat. “Well, it’s true!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t--it’s not like I did it on purpose!” Gordon said, tapping his foot anxiously. “Fuck, Benrey, get off me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why’d you do it, bro, why would you do that? Huh?” Benrey reached for Gordon’s right arm, like he knew right where the wound would be, and Gordon only confirmed it by yanking it away, curling the fingers of his left hand around the spot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Leave it alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whuh, wait seriously? You hurt yourself? Lemme see, c’mere. Thought you uh, didn’t wanna die anymore. Thought you got cured. Weren’t gonna try to kill yourself, you said.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon looked desperately at Pam, who made a “what do you want me to do about it” kind of gesture at him, a “you got yourself into this” motion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re suicidal,” she said slowly, taking the time to process this new piece of information. “That would explain a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why, why are you meddling,” Gordon groaned, as Benrey yanked his sleeve up to look at the bandages. “No, I’m not suicidal, it’s--It’s just a scratch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pam glanced at Josh, making sure he was still invested in his game. “Gordon, I get that you’re coping, but--your son needs you. There are people in this world who care about you, who need you there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not a coping thing!” Gordon protested. “I heard a voice again, and I thought--why are you looking at me like that. Benrey, stop it.” The guard glanced up at him and continued pressing kisses to his bandage. “Pam. Stop looking at me like that, I’m not crazy, I’m not--self harming, I’m not suicidal. I just had a moment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like this morning?” Benrey asked helpfully. “You, uh, you had sleepy paralysis again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pam’s eyebrows lifted towards her hairline.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, thank you Benrey. Thank you for your help,” Gordon hissed, as Benrey picked at his bandage. “No, it wasn’t sleep paralysis again, I was awake, I just heard… a voice, telling me to do something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey,” Pam said, apparently done talking to him. Gordon fumed. “I need a favor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whuh, me? Huh? I wasn’t listening, what’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need you to keep an eye on Gordon for me. Please. He’s not right in the head.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My head is fine,” Gordon snapped, but he was ignored.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, I can do that. I don’t need to blink, it’ll be easy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just stay with him. Make sure he’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll watch him real good,” Benrey said. “He won’t be able to, uhhh, piss without me holding his hand. Gonna hold hands a lot…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is great,” Gordon said, “I love being infantilized, I love being forced into situations.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bro, we can get the science team together, do some, uh, psychics puzzles,” Benrey said, slinging an arm around Gordon’s neck. “Push that box, and uh, flip a switch, pull a lever… Tomb Raider, go in and find out Lara Croft beat us to the punch. No treasure left. Dinner at Chunky Cheeses, haha, nice. Win so many Playcoins. Go to the prize counter, Lara Croft wuz here, graffitied on the wall. No prizes left. Booby traps on every door, can’t leave--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is he saying,” Pam asked, awed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, I tune him out,” Gordon said. “Look, you have to admit, I’m doing better. My place is clean. I’ve applied to like, three… two and a half jobs. I shaved a little.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That doesn’t make you magically better, Gordon,” Pam said sadly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“--magic crystal skull, glowing and shit,” Benrey muttered, still going. “Lift it off the pedestal, what’s that? Nother booby trap, haha. Sick. Spikes at the bottom of a, uh, hole. You die. Game over.” He lifted his head, looked between Gordon and Pam. “What’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey has work tomorrow,” Gordon said, finding an out. “He can’t just stay with me at all hours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah I can,” Benrey said. “All guards, uh, look the same, they won’t notice. Clock in from my phone, no one’s gonna notice. No one cares.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wonderful,” Gordon huffed. “Great. Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bro why’re you mad, don’t you wanna play, mmmm, blibeo blames with the boys?” He clicked his tongue, made mouth sounds every time Gordon tried to respond.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know why I put up with you,” Gordon said finally.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, cause you like me, gay homo. Homo momence from Gordon. Homomence.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pam snorted, and Gordon shot her a look. She quickly recovered. “Gordon, the fact is, you need someone watching you. At least for now. I can’t do it, and you can’t be alone. Benrey’s your only option.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, settle for me bro,” Benrey said, puckering his lips at Gordon. “Be cool, have some friends over. Stop, uh, hearing things. Buy me a collar and a vest that says service guy--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, the dog joke isn't funny anymore,” Gordon informed him. “Fuck, fine. Whatever. Stay over, I don’t care.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon Tsundereman,” Benrey teased. “And uh, don’t act like you don’t know what that means. Nerd boy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, he knows,” Pam said, and Gordon was only stopped from snapping at her by Joshua removing his headphones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Daddy Gorgor, do you have Cowboys 21?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not a game, Joshie,” Gordon sighed, setting his son up with Little Big Planet to distract him for a bit longer. He picked up the headphones Joshua had tossed aside and put them back over his ears, and turned around to find Benrey and Pam whispering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is this,” Gordon asked, standing and shoving Benrey over to break them up. “What are you doing? What is this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t friends talk?” Benrey asked, clipping through the couch when Pam looked away at Joshua. “We’re besties,” Benrey continued, voice staticy and booming. “We talk about your feet all day on PSN.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon didn’t hear him through the rushing in his ears. “Why would you say that,” he asked, voice hoarse. The last time Benrey had said that, it was right before he’d lost his hand; he knew that, he knew… The living room melted around him, faded to a dark corner of Black Mesa, a room that he knew too well from his nightmares.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon?” Pam called, sliding off the couch onto the floor to reach him, shake his shoulder. “Gordon. What’s wrong.” Gordon didn’t answer, barely heard her as he sank, could only barely feel her shaking him. He saw Benrey stand and come closer, kneel with him and move his lips, either saying something or making inane mouth sounds. He felt, but couldn’t hear the noise coming from his throat, the high pitched thrum of a scream being held in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last thing he remembered were two pairs of combat boots, legs clad in fatigues, walking straight out of his couch, and then an agonizing pain where his arm used to be.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. that's why i'm standing on the overpass screaming at myself, "hey, i wanna get better!"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>remember to check tags!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>To their credit, the paramedics didn’t flinch when they asked Pam for his name, didn’t even blink when she explained that he was Gordon Freeman, yes </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gordon Freeman. It seemed to be more than enough to get them up to speed on what was happening, signs of his panic attack evident in his body language and sluggish, uncoordinated responses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Through the blinds, Gordon could see the lights flashing, red and white on the street outside, four stories below. Was he dying? It felt like he was dying.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“How did he get this cut?” one of the paramedics asked at the same time Gordon yanked his arm away, clutched the spot where his hand had been cut off. Mistrustful, seeing camo. He heard Pam answer that </span><em><span>he did it himself. </span></em><span>Even though Joshua was in his bedroom, her voice was low and soft, as if he’d be able to hear it and would panic too.</span> <span>He’d been anxious since she’d ushered him away, sending Benrey after him to make sure he didn’t peek.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you his wife?” the other paramedic asked, finishing up checking Gordon’s vitals.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ex-wife,” Pam corrected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m his wife now,” Benrey interjected from the hall. Pam pointed him back towards Joshua’s room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s get him loaded up,” the same paramedic said. The both of them were in the process of trying to wrangle Gordon to his feet, the man begrudgingly, sluggishly, complying, when the front door opened. It was silent despite the fact Gordon knew the hinges needed oil. As if the door opening was merely for show. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope I am not… interrupting anything important, Doctor Freeman.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The scream returned to Gordon’s throat, trapped behind his teeth. His eyes drifted fearfully from the floor over to the kitchen, to where Mister Coolatta stood, all suit and shiny shoes and slicked back hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir, you can’t be in here,” a paramedic said at the same time Pam asked “Who is this? Gordon, do you know--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, hey,” Benrey said, coming back from his hiding spot half-way down the hall, cornering the man near the counter. Not at all perturbed by the otherworldliness Gordon knew him for. Bold as anything. As if the government man were just any other employee of Black Mesa. “Hey it’s you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh. Yes, it is me,” the man said, straightening his tie, discomfort twinging his face. He turned away from Benrey with some difficulty. And, as if to regain control over the situation despite Benrey’s blank but intimidating stare, he waved a dismissive hand to the paramedics. They packed up their things and departed, despite Pam’s calling after them. She followed behind, imploring them, begging them, questioning them, until they got too close to Mister Coolatta and she stopped, between him and Gordon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Your condition was brought to my attention some time ago, Doctor Freeman, and as I’m sure you are aware--” Mister Coolatta began, jolting slightly when Benrey interrupted with:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you here to play PlayStation three?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned back to Benrey, shocked into silence, stunned to be asked such a question. Benrey smacked his lips at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Doing his best to ignore Benrey (an impossible task, Gordon knew) he said: “As I was saying, Doctor Freeman,” he stepped around Benrey and Pam stepped back again. Although the man only took a single step, putting Benrey behind him, Pam continued until she was sat at Gordon’s side. “I’m sure you are aware of just how much… incentive you have to keep certain matters… under wraps.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>aware. He had been given a lot of hush money, almost all of it funneled directly into Joshua’s college fund, with enough left over to survive off of for a couple of months at least. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>spending a lot on food delivery these days... </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My employers,” he cleared his throat, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> employers have asked that I come to...remind you. Of how greatly they value your….discretion. Do you...understand?” Gordon nodded slowly, teeth grit. “It would be a shame if you were to be… fired, for disrupting their work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So that was it. Go to the hospital, talk about Black Mesa, what had really happened, and be killed. Message received.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” he announced, eyes still locked on Mr Coolatta. “I’m good. I’m fine. Don’t look at me like that.” Gordon tried to stand and immediately collapsed on the couch, legs shaking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon, you need to go to the hospital,” Pam insisted, trying to steady him. He pulled away from her, closing his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Gordon repeated, laying his head against the back of the couch. “I’m all good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mister Coolatta made a thoughtful sound. “I am, relieved to hear so,” he said, sounding no different from when he was threatening Gordon not a moment before. “You are, after all Doctor Freeman, a very valuable employee.” The clacking of heavy dress shoes across the tile of his kitchen. “Now that you...remember...your contract, I will take my leave. My apologies that we could not,” he made a small laughing sound that sent shivers up Gordon’s spine; it sounded less human than any other part of his weird speech pattern, “catch, up. But my son is, ah… waiting for me. We will talk again soon, Doctor Freeman. After all, your current state is, counterintuitive to the, business, for which you have been hired.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And in an instant he was gone, right back through the door. Gordon didn’t watch him go, just stared down at his hands in his lap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What just happened,” Pam asked, looking over at Benrey for answers. He didn’t seem to be paying attention anymore, just smacking his lips as he stared up at the corner of the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it,” Gordon sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I am worried about it! I’m worried about you! Tell me why I shouldn’t call 911 and have you involuntarily committed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s being, uh,” Benrey said, and smacked his lips again. “Hush moneyed. G-dog wants him to shut up about--” lip smack-- “Black Mesa.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pam stared at him, back at Gordon, then at Benrey again. “What happened at Black Mesa.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nuclear meltdown,” Gordon said, before Benrey could speak up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, sure, nukey melties,” Benrey said, shrugging.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey,” Pam said, stepping towards him to corner him. “I deserve to know. I can’t help him if I don’t know what’s wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pam,” Gordon said, rubbing his tired eyes. “You’d be in danger if you knew.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously, Gordon? You think I’m going to accept that? Benrey--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you tell her, I’ll never play PS3 with you again,” Gordon warned. “I’ll delete your gamertag.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“WOW,” Benrey gasped. “Okay, fiiine. I’m being hush moneyed too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanna go home,” Joshua announced, slicing through the high-pressure silence. “I’m tired.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pam sighed, deflating a bit. “Go get your shoes, Joshie,” she said, and he ran down the hall to find them, yelling the whole way. “Benrey,” she addressed him, once Joshua was out of the room, “please stay here with him. No matter what.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re really overreacting right now,” Gordon said, eyes closed. His eyelids were too heavy to keep them open anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If he says or does </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything, </span>
  </em>
  <span>text me.” She scribbled her number on a loose piece of trash she found on the counter, handed it over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh sweet, digits,” Benrey said, holding them up to the light as if checking for a counterfeit. “I’ll text you, we can talk about Heavenly Sword on PlayStation Three.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. Gordon,” she said, stopping in front of the couch to address him. The firm down of her voice pitched downward and Gordon closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see her worried, desperate expression. “Please be safe. We care about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Gordon insisted. “Get Joshie home, I’m good. Benrey’s here.” He could feel Pam looking him over for a minute more, and then she went to get Joshua and help him with his shoes. Then they were gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanna play Street Fighter?” Benrey asked, chucking a controller at him. “You wanna play it so bad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t feel like it,” Gordon muttered. He felt Benrey plop onto the couch beside him, sensed his gaze on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatcha wanna do then, broooouhhh?” Benrey asked. Gordon considered for a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Drink,” he said, forcing his eyes open. Benrey hummed, appearing to consider, and Gordon waited for him to say</span>
  <em>
    <span> no, no way, not in your current condition</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but instead the guard nodded, stood, and wandered off to the kitchen to look for booze. One of the benefits of his babysitter being an alien, he supposed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t have any here,” Gordon said. “You’d have to go get some.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, no. Pamgela told me to stay put. I love the, uh, Pam-law.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thought you loved being drunk more,” Gordon said, laying himself down on the couch. Benrey thought it over again, for a long time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What kind you want? Friend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And like that, he was alone again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the first ten minutes after Benrey left, Gordon laid on the couch. He wasn’t planning on doing anything other than waiting for booze. That’d show everyone who thought he was suicidal, for sure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So who is this guy, Freeman?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He jerked his head up at the sound of a voice, squinted. Someone was talking about him? No, definitely not. Gordon considered himself a rational person. There was no way someone was outside his apartment talking about--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They say he was at Ground Zero,” a gruff voice replied, and he froze, halfway off the couch. He remembered this conversation, just two marines shooting the shit as they guarded a segment of Black Mesa, waiting for him to pass through. Waiting to kill him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon sucked in a deep breath and got to his feet, creeping towards the door. He pressed his face up to the peephole, looking out, and found the hallway empty. Of course. He was just hearing things again, it was no biggie. Perfectly normal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But as he walked back into the living room, he heard the response. “Science team? You think he was responsible? Sabotage, maybe?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t coming from the hallway, or from inside his apartment, but from the dangerous little ledge outside his window. Gordon stood, feet stuck to the floor, staring at the curtains that covered it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re hearing things, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he reminded himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you do not need to go out there and look. There’s not going to be anything there. You know there’s not. Black Mesa is over, it’s behind you, it’s done.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Be that as it may, he still opened the window. Still stuck his head out to look. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness of the desert again, after so many weeks hidden behind closed blinds; he had to blink rapidly as he climbed out on the cliffside, inching along after Bubby and Coomer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, hello, Gordon!” Coomer greeted him. “We’ve been waiting for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this real?” Gordon laughed nervously, as Tommy bumped into him. “I mean, this doesn’t feel quite real. Are we--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Careful, Gordon. You don’t want to take a tumble, do you?” Coomer asked, stopping him in his tracks at the edge of the cliff. Coomer himself was floating, no longer standing on anything, and continued to walk on, leaving Gordon behind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, wait up--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hurry up Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said, and the moment Gordon turned to look at him, he was gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You guys can’t just leave me back here,” Gordon protested, turning back in the direction Coomer had gone as the desert began to melt around him. The sunlight flickered, went dark, and he squinted as his eyes adjusted again, to the darkness of a Xen cave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course it’s real, you imbecile,” Bubby snapped at him. “If it wasn’t real, could I do this?” He removed his glasses, and Gordon realized it was the first time he’d ever seen Bubby do that. Then Bubby removed his glasses. Then Bubby removed his glasses. Then Bubby removed his glasses....</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve got a lot of those,” Gordon mused, wishing he had such a replacement plan for his one pair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It gets easier as you age,” Bubby said, and then he spasmed uncontrollably, twisted and morphed into something else, something big and blue and staring down at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s my buddy!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey? Why are you so big? Where’s the science team?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bro, they’re all waiting for you to hurry up! Everyone’s waiting for you. Hurry up, slowpoke.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where am I supposed to be going?” Gordon asked, as Benrey reached towards him. The guard paused, lowered his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess wherever you want,” Benrey said. “We’re not picky. We’ll go where you go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are we, anyway?” Gordon asked, trying to tear his eyes away from Benrey’s face. The guard grinned at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bro, we’re outside!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, haha,” Gordon said, unsure of what he meant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We made it out! You’re home, Gordon!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We did?” Gordon felt his heart soar. “Oh my god, we really did, huh? We’re out. This is…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>the view from my window</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, bro, so come on out. Everyone’s waiting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon smiled, nodded, but didn’t move. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You gotta do it, Gordon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You gotta do it. You should do it. You should jump. You should jump right now. It would be so poggers. Get a lot of, mmm, W’s in the chat tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you saying, man,” Gordon laughed, dragging a hand down his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon..?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Gordon--!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From the edge of his vision, a hand swiped at him, and Gordon batted it away, stumbling towards the edge. Giant Benrey laughed. And laughed. And laughed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey was such a good friend, he had decided while perusing the liquor store once again. Such a nice person. So good and kind. Gordon was lucky to have a security guy so willing to go buy booze for him at the drop of a hat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he was willing, up for just about anything. He would have burned the city down for Gordon, anything to see his eyes light up again. “Such a good friend,” he muttered, leaning over the counter to squint at the labels. “Uh, gimme that one,” he said, pointing at a bottle of gin labeled </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gordon’s. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“And theeeeeen uuuuuuuhhh… Rum, for baby boy pansyman.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The clerk rang him up, waved his ID away without looking (illegal action), and handed him a big paper bag of fun! Benrey stopped in the doorway of the store to adjust his beanie, leering at his reflection in the glass door. It was gonna be a good night. Good, fun, cool. Just two bros chillin. Play some Tekken or something, or whatever bad games Gordon had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shivered, stepping back out into the night; it was a chilly 69 (nice) degrees, too cold for mid December. He would have to remember to layer up tomorrow, crank his heat up…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But for now he was staying over at Gordon’s, so what did it matter if his pipes burst or whatever? PS3’s waterproof, probably.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stopped at the convenience store on his way back to Gordon’s building, bought a few cans of Monster to get him through to morning, another candy cane. He didn’t need to eat, but the burning sensation and the peppermint were satisfying, and he enjoyed biting, chewing, crunching. It was cool. Not at all like bones, though, because thoughts like that would make Gordon sad and mad and Benrey was a cool good guy this time!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merry Christmas,” the clerk said to him, and Benrey yoinked the bag out of their hand, headed back out into the frigid night. He didn’t do so good in the cold, functioned better when he was warm, but like all other things, it wouldn’t matter tonight when he was in Gordon’s bed, all cozy wozy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He returned to Gordon’s building to find the elevator out of order (typical!) and started up the stairs. Didn’t matter, didn’t care. He was going to hang with Gordon until 3 am, he’d decided, and then snuggle his bro, and that was that on that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Up four flights of stairs, he let himself back into Gordon’s apartment. Dude wasn’t in the living room, so Benrey set his stuff down to wait. Kind of cold in the apartment, colder than he’d left it. He knew Gordon ran a little warmer, liked to keep things cool, but this seemed excessive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey plopped on the couch, put his crocs up on the coffee table, and cracked open a Monster he drained  in one long, continuous gulp. His eyes slid over the tv and the PS3 to the open window. Stupid Gordon, leaving windows open in the dead of winter. Idiot. Kind of funny that he’d open it now, though, after keeping himself holed up for six weeks. Not haha funny. More like, uhhh, funny funny. Weird.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Felt wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey set his empty can down and stood, crossing the living room to the window. He hadn’t noticed before that it led to a little balcony, just a ledge, really, had never realized that it even opened. All of his windows stayed shut, all the time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey peeked his head out through the curtains, billowing in the night air, and looked both ways. It was pretty dark out, but the light of the city illuminated something on the ledge. “Gordon?” Benrey asked, voice soft. Gordon didn’t look at him, was too focused on whatever he saw out in the city. Benrey glanced down, but there was nothing there so captivating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He crawled out onto the ledge after his buddy, his bro, and inched towards him. Gordon didn’t seem to see him, even as Benrey straightened, neared him, and reached a hand out to touch his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Gordon--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon yelped, swatting his hand away, and staggered. For a second, Benrey felt a flurrying in his chest, a panicked pounding against his heart. He was going to lose him, just like that. Humans couldn’t survive that kind of fall, he knew that. Gordon knew that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had one shot to do it, and Benrey did it. He grabbed Godon around the middle and hauled him back to the window, flung him inside, and crawled back in after him. Gordon yelled, that frightened sound that made Benrey’s heart go pitter patter, and fell against the carpet, breathing hard. His eyes darted around, scared and unsure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey? Is this--am I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“GORDON,” Benrey said, voice loud. Angry. His face was dark, eyes wide and wild. “Are you FUCKING kidding me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey slammed the window shut so hard the glass rattled, and he stormed forward, climbing on top of Gordon. He didn’t seem to know what else to do at that point, so in lieu of other options, he punched him in the face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey, what the fuck!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT, WHY WOULD YOU GO OUT THERE?” Benrey roared, shaking him. “You think you’re INVINCIBLE, GORDON? You think you’ve still got that fucking suit on?! That why you told me to go get booze, so you could DIE?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“YOU WERE GOING TO DIE, GORDON, GORDON STUPIDMAN, DOESN’T CONSIDER ANYONE ELSE’S FEELINGSMAN!” Benrey sat up, punched him again, in the chest. His face was twitching, doing something Gordon had never seen him do before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey, are you crying?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“NO, NUH UH.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey, it’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“IT’S NOT.” Benrey punched his chest again, as if that would help something. He leaned over Gordon, pulling him against his chest, shaking. “I HATE YOU. Why did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what’s going on anymore,” Gordon admitted, and once it was out there, it was out. He shook, a week’s worth of tears rushing forth at once. “Fuck, Benrey, I have no idea what’s going on. I don’t remember going out there. , I just… I remember you. You were out there, and you were huge again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, what? I’ve never been huge.” Benrey sniffled loud and wet. “Friend Benny is pocket sized for your convenience. Travel pak.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t do that right now,” Gordon choked out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You scared me,” Benrey said, calming down slightly. He still sniffled, gross wet noises coming from his nose. “You should, uh, stop that. Take responsibility.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t--I can’t keep doing this,” Gordon sobbed. “I don’t know what’s real half the time. I’m not even sure this is real.” Benrey looked at him sadly and stood, pulling on Gordon’s hand. Gordon allowed himself to be hauled up and led to bed, still crying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t call Pam, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he wanted to beg. Don’t let her know what was going on, don’t give her the option of having him committed. He was so scared, horrified by what had happened, terrified that Mr. Coolatta was going to appear at any second to tell him his contract had been terminated and put a bullet between his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘S’okay, Gorgor,” he heard Benrey say. Vaguely, through the haze of a fresh panic attack, he could feel the guard stroking his hair, holding him, but it felt so unreal. None of it was real anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need… I need help, Benrey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need serious help,” Gordon sobbed, turning to plant his face in Benrey’s chest. “I need--I don’t know what, I just need this to be over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gonna be okay, Gordon. I got you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wept for hours, shuddering and taking occasional breaks where he claimed to be “okay, fine now,” only to resume bawling. Benrey didn’t let him go, and while Gordon didn’t feel himself falling asleep, he must have at </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>point, because soon he was opening his tired, swollen eyes to find the room bright with sunlight. Benrey had left him in bed, tangled in his sheets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon sat up, feeling like hell, and decided to get up, regardless of what time it was. He forced himself out of bed, dragging his feet to the bathroom, and cleaned up a bit. No voices bothered him, no hallucinations, and as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, Gordon thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m gonna be okay.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he entered the living room, the science team was there.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. when they say they're cuttin off the phone, we tell 'em you're not home.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Ah, hello Gordon!” Dr. Coomer called from the couch, wedged between Bubby and Tommy on his right and left, respectively. Gordon froze and tried to play off the nervous scream he let out as a laugh. He hadn’t heard Dr. Coomer’s voice since Black Mesa, as he and Bubby had been travelling since then, and somehow, hearing that familiar greeting made him kind of…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Freaked out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, Dr. Coomer,” he said, looking between the three of them and Benrey, who was sitting on the coffee table, anxious just having them all in one place again. “What’s, uh… What’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you have a seat, Gordon,” Dr. Coomer suggested. Gordon looked around again, half expecting a chair to just spawn in his living room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sit on Benrey’s lap,” Benrey whispered. Gordon elected to ignore him, stood and leaned against the counter instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So uh… what’s going on?” he inquired again, and the other four looked around at each other, as if deciding who would start. Gordon had a feeling he knew where this was going.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you tried to kill yourself,” Bubby said finally, “big whoop.” Oh no. No, he didn’t like this, not one bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is a big whoop!” Dr. Coomer agreed cheerfully, “a very large whoop!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My dad is really mad at you,” Tommy said, not meeting Gordon’s eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You guys all suck at interventions, booo,” Benrey jeered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon, we’re worried about you,” Dr. Coomer said, as Bubby and Tommy nodded. “We may have faced some challenges back in Black Mesa, but that’s no reason t-HELLO GORDON!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Dr. Coomer,” Gordon said from between gritted teeth. His grip on the countertop tightened, knuckles going pale.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. Freeman, if you break your contract, your Wikipedia page really will say you died,” Tommy warned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you threatening me, Tommy,” Gordon groaned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Tommy said, but Gordon was sure that if he’d had a gun, it would be pointed right at his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My Wikipedia page says that I’m spry as a grasshopper!” Dr. Coomer announced. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have a page on Wikipedia, the free online encyclopedia that anyone can edit?” Bubby asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I sure do!” Coomer said, hopping off the couch to kneel and punch it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“News to me. Gordon, why did you try to jump out your window?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t try to ju--I was just standing out there--look, it’s not even anyone’s business. I don’t see why </span>
  <em>
    <span>Benrey </span>
  </em>
  <span>thought it was appropriate to call you all over here, but it’s--it’s nothing. It’s done. It’s fine. I’m good. I’m healthy! I started flossing again, I’m losing weight, I haven’t ordered Doordash in days. I’m good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey stood, took Gordon’s hand, and led him over to the coffee table, where he made him sit on the edge. “Bro. You said you wanted help. This is help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not helping,” Gordon hissed. “If anything, you’re all making me want to kill myself twice as bad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon, I’m worried,” Coomer said, still beating the life out of his poor couch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We really are trying to help you out here,” Bubby said, sounding a little hurt. Tommy still wouldn’t look at him, fiddled with his hat in his hands instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I appreciate that, Bubby, really,” Gordon said, “but seriously, this isn’t making me feel any better.” A knock came at the door, interrupting him, and Gordon glanced towards the kitchen, confused. “Who else did you invite?” he asked, as Benrey ran to open it. “Oh fuck, Benrey, NO--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sit down,” Pam ordered Gordon as she passed by Benrey, who shut the door behind her. She paused between the kitchen and living room, looking over the science team. “I thought you said all the survivors would be here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is all of the survivors,” Gordon said, still standing between the coffee table and couch, and something dawned on Pam’s face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s get started then,” she said, leaning against the same segment of counter Gordon had been standing at just minutes before. Gordon sat on the edge of the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll go,” Tommy said, and finally made eye contact. “Mr. Freeman, I’m worried about you too. If you die because you jumped out a window, or because my dad kills you, you won’t come back, not like us. And that would make me sad. If you’re gone, who’s going to be our leader and rob banks with us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon had no response to that, just chewed on his lip and stared at the carpet between the table and the couch. He lifted his head when Coomer spoke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon, I care about you,” Dr. Coomer said. “We all do! You’re a very precious man. We wouldn’t have made it out of Black Mesa without you.” He paused, and his eyes softened. “And we’ll get you out of Black Mesa now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In an instant, Gordon felt himself come undone. He ducked his head, keening, tears welling up behind his glasses. Coomer stood and wrapped him in a hug, and Bubby and Tommy piled on, holding him as he wept.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I ca--can’t keep doing this,” Gordon sobbed, face buried in Coomer’s shoulder. “I don’t… don’t know what to do, I’m just so--I’m still in there, still fucking there.” He was getting Coomer’s shirt wet and could feel the damp fabric sticking to his face, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away, even as Tommy released him and Bubby backed up to give him space.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t… can’t even talk about it, without Mister Coolatta showing up to threaten me,” Gordon gritted out, as Coomer stroked his hair and patted his back. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I can’t keep fighting like this--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to fight alone, Gordon,” Bubby said, and Gordon started bawling all over again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Gordon was calm enough to speak somewhat clearly--and it took quite a while to reach that point, some ten or so minutes where he just leaned against Coomer and sobbed--he sat on the couch in Bubby’s vacated seat and held his face in his hands, willing his headache to go away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just don’t understand,” he said, “I don’t get how </span>
  <em>
    <span>we </span>
  </em>
  <span>survived. I don’t get </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>we survived. I mean we were right there--me and Benrey, and Bubby, you jumped right into the resonance cascade and I assumed you were dead--and we were all just there, it doesn’t make sense that out of everyone, it was us who made it out. It just…” Fresh tears clouded his vision, and Gordon removed his glasses, pressing the heel of his fist against his right eye. “I don’t know why </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>survived. When it was my fault. And I keep thinking, I guess, if I had died, at least… at least no one would have died </span>
  <em>
    <span>for me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Because of me, yeah, but no one would have died in my place.” His breath hitched in a sob, and Gordon lifted his head, staring tearily up at Dr. Coomer. “Why did I make it out alive?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coomer placed a firm but gentle hand on Gordon’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Gordon, what happened at Black Mesa was tragic. But you’re not to blame. Any one of us could have stopped the experiment, but we didn’t. It’s not your fault that things lined up the way they did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It feels like it,” Gordon sniffled, hanging his head again. “Maybe if I had just done something differently…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is really hard on you, isn’t it, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said, patting his other shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Black Mesa was… it was the worst thing I’ve ever been through,” Gordon said, without looking up. “It was by far the most traumatic event I’ve ever been a part of.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Explain this then,” Bubby said, as he dug his wallet out of his back pocket and flipped it open. Gordon looked over as Bubby fished out a photo and handed it to Coomer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why, Bubby, we look beautiful!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is that,” Gordon asked, holding a hand out to take the photo. “Is this--Bubby is this us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s us!” Tommy cheered, pointing at himself seated cross legged in the middle of the photo. Pam crept closer to look over Gordon’s shoulder at the photograph, squinting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is that pose you’re doing,” she asked, and everyone jumped a bit, having forgotten she was there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s his Coomermorative photo pose!” Coomer declared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It--it was a rough time, okay? The--the whole thing, it was a disaster of massive proportions--put the photo away, Bubby.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we should frame it!” Bubby suggested.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s not. Let’s not frame it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gordon, if it weren’t for you, we really would have died in Black Mesa,” Coomer said, patting Gordon’s shoulder again. “We needed you! And we still need you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe none of us should have survived,” Gordon murmured. “Maybe if we’d just let the military kill everyone and bomb Black Mesa into nothing, maybe humanity wouldn’t have to pay for our fucked up, self aggrandizing experiments. If anyone--if anyone should have died--Do you have any idea how much blood I have on my hands?” Here they came, more tears. His eyes were starting to hurt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’ll remember, you did ask us to stop tacking on to your murder tally!” Coomer paused, watching Gordon cry again, concerned. “I know it’s been a long time since I was fully human, and my neural implants do prevent me from acquiring any psychological damage, but I do cognitively understand what you’re going through. And I’m here for you. We’ll all always be here for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Dr. Coomer,” Gordon sniffed. “I appreciate that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. Freeman, if your brain was a Wikipedia article, I would edit it to say you’re not sad anymore,” Tommy said, “but I can’t. I’m sorry that I can’t edit your brainpedia page.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s okay. Thanks, Tommy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re going to be okay, Gordon,” Bubby assured him. Gordon nodded, wiping his nose. “Benrey, get over here and share in the moment with us.” Benrey muttered something, kicking at the carpet. “Or don’t, I don’t care.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Benrey </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>come here,” Gordon agreed. “Come on. You’re part of this.” Benrey produced some more mumbling noises before shuffling over and squeezing between Gordon and Tommy on the couch. He bumped his head against Gordon’s shoulder, grumbling something about “F’s in the chat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is good,” Gordon said. “I feel… lighter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Careful you don’t float away!” Coomer laughed, and punched him gently in the arm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think… I think this is good. This is a good step. I feel better,” Gordon said, nodding as he spoke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And all you needed was a little bit of love!” Coomer chortled, continuing to throw punches. “Now, why don’t you tell us what’s got you so down?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon sighed, rubbing his face. “I guess… Just everything that happened back there. I mean, I hear things now. I’m paranoid, I keep experiencing sleep paralysis, I… I tried to cut off my own hand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t forget about jumping out the window,” Bubby added helpfully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks. Yeah, I… I guess I was out there for a reason. Everything brings me back to Black Mesa, and it feels like… Like no one else noticed. And I just miss you guys. You all moved on like nothing happened, and I feel so alone.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was silence for a moment as the science team processed that. “Gordon, I’m sorry,” Coomer said, patting his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I… didn’t realize you felt that way,” Bubby said. “But you’re not alone, we’re here now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, it’s just.... It seems like the longer I go without seeing you guys, the more I spiral.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe we--we could have a guys night,” Tommy suggested. “Every week, we could all get together and just--hang out, and check in. And I would bring sodas for everyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw sick, Tommy’s bringin the goods,” Benrey said, lifting his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I too could go for a “boy’s night out!”” Coomer said, slapping his knee. “Why don’t we make a habit of it, every Saturday?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Saturdays work for me,” Bubby said, as Benrey stood and squeezed past him to go talk to Pam. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the gang chalked out the details for a casual, not at all a mental health check up weekly boy’s night, Pam beckoned Benrey down the hall to speak privately. “Yo what up,” he said, then quieted his voice at her urgent shushing. “You, uhh, you in love with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. Look, Benrey, I… I really don’t know what happened at Black Mesa--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah cause it’s, uh, all classified and shit.” Benrey smacked his lips, peeking into Gordon’s bedroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I get that. I don’t need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>what happened, I just… I’m starting to realize that I’m in over my head here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel so helpless, Benrey,” Pam confessed. “For weeks I thought space was what he needed to heal, and now I know how wrong that was but… I haven’t done anything for him, have I? Other than push him off on other people and ask them to help him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, whuh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t make head or tails of what he’s going through, but you guys, you’re practically strangers and you’ve got him acting like--almost normal again, just like that. You’ve done more for him in a couple months than I could in our entire marriage.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” Benrey said, and smacked his lips again. “Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not just saying that to butter you up, but… Please, please keep an eye on him. Don’t let him push you away. I can’t… Joshie can’t lose his dad.” She looked near tears. Benrey shuffled his feet awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, I’ll stick around… Stick to his side like a crusty cumsock--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gross, why would you put it that way?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gonna, uh, be his cumsock, if you know what I mean. Wink nudge. Just a surly little, uhhh fuckin, dirty little joke. Not joking though. For real seriously.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pam sighed in exasperation, heading back down the hallway just in time to hear Gordon describe his hand as “not really mine, I guess like an alien parasite…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve got to get home,” she said, flagging his attention. “Call me if you need anything. I mean it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, of course. I’ll… I’ll text you later, see about taking Joshie off your hands next weekend, maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sad look crossed Pam’s face, one that said </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re not ready to watch your son,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but she smiled through it and nodded. She shut the door behind herself, leaving the team to their planning.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>shorter chapter this week, may go to posting weekly rather than twice weekly after this as I have no more backlog to post u__u;;</p>
<p>also thank you for all the kind comments, I save them all to look at later.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. i'm rehearsing what to say when the truth comes out (of my very own mouth)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you everyone for your patience these past few weeks! I was hit with a strong bout of "can't bring myself to write" and struggled with this chapter for a couple weeks. as a thank you gift for waiting, it is slightly longer than previous chapters. chapter 10 should be out on time next Sunday. hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After a couple of hours, they had come up with and trashed a number of ideas for boy’s night hangouts. Paintball was out. Nothing with guns or that much running and yelling. Tommy suggested movie night. Bubby suggested they watch eight hours of war movies. That was shot down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time they settled on meeting up to play a tabletop role playing game next weekend, it was getting late. Tommy left first, bidding them farewell to go walk Sunkist, and Bubby and Coomer were gone not long after. Then it was just Gordon, exhausted, and Benrey, who kept eyeballing him like he was a delicious fruit platter. Gordon was trying to ignore him, but Benrey was, as usual, persistently annoying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Gordon snapped finally, looking him dead-on. “What do you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You feel better?” Benrey asked. Oh. So maybe he was just genuinely worried. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I feel better. Thank you, Benrey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Had a cry, saw your friends? So we’re gonna kiss now? Got plans next week, not gonna kill yourself now? Feeling all better. Don’t need, uhh… don’t need to be sad anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Irritation rose in Gordon’s chest again and he swallowed it down, trying not to yell. He wasn’t going to freak out. “Yeah. No, we’re not going to kiss now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just trying to relax, Benrey. It’s kind of been a rough couple of… days.” Weeks. Months? Time was passing weirdly lately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you wanna kiss?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I said no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you wanted to kiss before. You kissed me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That--Christ, Benrey, do you not get this? Do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>understand the gravity of what’s going on with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, so let me kiss it better. Kiss it all, uhh, all good. No more tears. Baby shampoo. Bro, why’re you mad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>mad.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your fists are. You’re fisting. You’ve got fists, balled.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon looked down at his hands and unclenched his fingers, slowly. “I’m not mad. I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re upset? With Benrey? Why.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you just back off?” Gordon snapped, leaning away from him. Benrey followed, until he was practically sitting on Gordon. “Fucking Christ, Benrey, fuck off!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why! Tell me why!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?!” Nevermind, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to yell. “Benrey, I don’t know if you realize this--maybe you genuinely don’t, but you are a </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge </span>
  </em>
  <span>part of my Black Mesa trauma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? Wow, thank you…” Was he fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>blushing?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not complimenting you. It’s a bad thing. You did some horrible shit to me back then, and I’m still dealing with a lot of it--so I’m sorry if I’m not really in the mood to kiss right now, but I’m not. Not in the mood AND not sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’d I do wrong?” Benrey asked, eyes following Gordon as he hopped to his feet and began to pace across the living room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you--Benrey, you nearly got me killed. Like at least a dozen different times. You had my hand cut off! You--you turned out to be the big evil final boss of the whole thing, and then you just came back into our lives like it was no big deal! But it was a big deal! You hurt people!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you don’t hurt people?” Benrey snapped, standing as well. “Gordon Meanman. Like you’re never hurtful. Like you didn’t kill people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Irrelevant! We are talking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You always so mean to me. I don’t even see why. I’m a good friend. I came and checked on you. But you always push me away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because you’re a bad person!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want me to be bad? FINE. I’ll be bad!” Benrey lifted his leg to kick over the coffee table--but in his distress, he seemed to be having some noclip issues, and instead got his leg stuck inside. “FUCK!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, what, you’re stuck? Just pull it out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I CAN’T, I’m MAD, and it doesn’t feel good!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah? Well, too bad. I’m not going to help you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“MEAN,” Benrey wailed, as Gordon plopped back down on the couch behind him. This backfired when Benrey ragdolled, collapsing onto his lap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get off me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“MMMNO. Say something nice to me and maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you don’t move, I’m never kissing you again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey was up in an instant, foot freed from the table and no longer adhering to noclip physics as he turned himself around and crawled into Gordon’s lap. “Promise? You promise we kiss now? Right now yes please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, not that I don’t appreciate your enthusiasm--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right now please. Kiss Benny please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“--but we still need to talk about this. I’m not… over everything, like everyone else is, Benrey. I don’t think you understand that. Honestly, I don’t think you understand that the things you did were wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I understand,” Benrey huffed, averting his eyes. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>you got all sad, all mad… got all, depressed and shit. Thought we had a good rivalry… coulda been kismesis… thought you were a bad boy, but then you made </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>be the bad boy, not cool, broke the genre, uhh… subverted tropes and shit.” He trailed off into mumbles. “Got your hand back, should be fine…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey, losing my hand and travelling through Black Mesa was traumatic for me. Even if it’s over and my hand was replaced. It’s not… it’s not just all better because we’re out here instead of in there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey was quiet for a long moment, staring down at a spot on Gordon’s t-shirt. “How do we make it better then?” he asked, lifting a hand to pick at it with his fingernails. “I want you to be better. How do I do it? I, uhh, don’t know the Gameshark codes for your stuff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think you can cheat your way through trauma,” Gordon sighed. “Not that I wouldn’t if I could. I’d love for this to all be behind me. But it’s going to take time, and it’s going to be slow going. And if you want to be around for that, you have to be patient, and you have to be good, and you have to stop saying things that deliberately trigger me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey lifted his head to make eye contact, and his eyes were wide and unsure. “You said… Benny boy can be around for that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh.” Gordon paused, licking his lips. “Yeah, I hope so?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t just want me to gooooooo away?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to go away, Benrey. I want you to try harder with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Haha, harder. But um… Now can we kiss?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon sighed, steeling himself. “Yeah. We can kiss.” Benrey didn’t move; he had fully expected an onslaught attack of slobbery smooches, but instead the guard sat perfectly still in his lap, waiting patiently. “You… can kiss me, Benrey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey leaned in, tilting his head, but still didn’t press their lips together. Gordon quirked a brow and leaned forward to close the distance, kissing him softly at first--but at the moan that drew out of Benrey’s throat at the contact, he found himself much more eager to lick and nibble at the guard’s soft, wet lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tongues quickly came into play, exploring one another’s mouths. Benrey licked over Gordon’s teeth and sucked on his tongue, eyes half lidded but staring intently. Fuck, they were just going to do this, weren’t they? Nevermind all the “I’m not ready” crap, it was just going to happen. Whatever, Gordon decided. They’d both been patient. Surely they deserved a reward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon slid a hand up the back of Benrey’s shirt and relished in the way he shuddered and groaned into his mouth. His other hand found the front of Benrey’s sweats, palmed at the erection forming there, and Benrey broke the kiss to groan, loud and low and needy, muttering a few choice words like “please” and “now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me what you need, Benrey.” The hand on his clothed cock squeezed gently and then stopped moving entirely. Benrey whined, wriggling his hips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Need… need you, now. Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good boy,” Gordon said, pulling him into another kiss. To his surprise, Benrey pulled away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Need, uh… need you for real though. Need more than a mutual J/O sesh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon flushed, as if the thought of </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>hadn’t occurred to him. “Oh. Uh, well. Doesn’t that take prepara--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m ready,” Benrey groaned insistently, still rocking his hips on Gordon’s lap. “I been waiting, you always keep me waiting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Gordon breathed. “Uh, then, why don’t we move to the bedroom?” Benrey didn’t argue, just stood on shaky legs to let him up. The trip down the hallway was a bit of a blur, in all honesty--every couple of feet, Benrey would stop him for another kiss, push him against the wall and grind against him, nibble on his jaw and send goosebumps up and down his arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Upon reaching the bedroom, Gordon allowed himself to be dragged to the bed and pulled down atop Benrey. He rolled his hips down and Benrey’s breath hitched in his throat, exhaled in a shudder by Gordon’s ear. They stayed in that position for a few minutes, Gordon rocking his hips as Benrey whined and bucked up to meet him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t… don’t tease, so fuckin mean,” Benrey complained, as Gordon nibbled at his neck and jaw. He bit down, felt Benrey swallow beneath his teeth, and hummed softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I’m being mean, do something about it. You won’t,” Gordon said, pulling away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Such a fuckin, uhh, bully,” Benrey huffed, pulling Gordon back down to try to kiss him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like it when I’m mean though, don’t you,” Gordon asked, pulling back again. Benrey licked his lips, nodded slowly. “You want me to be mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pleeeease,” Benrey whined.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I’m gonna be mean,” Gordon said, peeling his shirt off over his head. Benrey’s eyes trailed down his chest, hungry and wanting, then back up to his face. They kissed again, sloppily, more desperately this time, as Benrey ran his fingertips over Gordon’s scarred body, like he’d never noticed the aftermath of Black Mesa on his skin before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure that you’re, uh, ready to…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I been ready,” Benrey said urgently. “Every day, waiting on your ass. Slowpoke. Evolve into, uhhh. Slowbro. Slowking. Slowizard. Slowtwo. Sl--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enough,” Gordon said, grabbing Benrey by the thighs and grinding forward against him. If there ever was a way to shut Benrey up, it was that. Gordon reached a hand up to tug the stupid PlayStation hat off Benrey’s pretty black hair, and the guard caught his wrist to bring his hand to his mouth. Gordon watched, enraptured, as Benrey parted his lips around his index and middle fingers, took them into his mouth and laved his tongue over them. He bobbed his head forward, tongue prodding at the skin between Gordon’s fingers, teeth so careful not to chomp down, and for </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever fucking reason</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Gordon trusted him to do this. Benrey wouldn’t fuck up a good thing by biting for no reason.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Benrey,” Gordon breathed, and Benrey’s lashes fluttered, going half-lidded over hazy, unfocused eyes. “Unless… are you a bad boy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At that, Benrey’s eyes snapped open, and his pupils went huge. “Fuuuuuck,” he groaned, releasing Gordon’s spit-slick fingers from his mouth, “yeah, I’m uh, such a bad boy. I’m, uh, virulent. Bad. I’m so bad, Gordon, you gotta…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me what to do,” Gordon teased, and Benrey sucked in a shaky breath. “Take your shirt off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, uh, good plan. Good idea. Good good good.” Benrey babbled softly as he sat up, yanking his stupid “MOUNT’N DEW ME” t-shirt off. Gordon was back on him in an instant once the offending piece of clothing was out of the way, grinding their cocks together through the fabric of their pants, face pressed into Benrey’s neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How far were they supposed to go with this? Benrey had kind of implied--or rather, full on spelled it out for him--that he wanted to fuck, like, in the ass, but truth be told, Gordon had never done that kind of thing before, and he was scared stupid of trying it now. Thinking too hard about the what-if’s was kind of killing his boner, though, so he focused on Benrey, Benrey’s soft, doughy body, his pale skin, dotted with hints of black fuzz, the smell of him, the soap Gordon had used that time in his shower, his own natural scent with an added layer of sweat. Fuck, if he didn’t hold back, he was going to cum in his pants. Gordon licked a patch of skin on Benrey’s neck and, without thinking too hard about it, bit down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aaah---ahhhhh!” He hadn’t actually expected much of a reaction. Maybe a little groan or a whine. Not for Benrey to cry out and go stiff under him, face screwed up and expression positively stupid as he came untouched in his lounge pants. Gordon froze, staring down at Benrey as he jerked and gasped through his orgasm, unsure of what to do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh--hey, Benrey, sorry for--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuuuuuuck me, Meatman, Gordon… Gordon puts his cock in me-man. Do it, pussy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously? You just came, you realize that, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Chicken ass. Too fuckin lame to fuck his bros in the ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, shut up,” Gordon laughed, tugging Benrey’s pants down to find that, again, he was not wearing underwear. “Are you just freeballing it all the time or what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Comfy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, sure. Gross.” Gordon tossed Benrey’s pants aside messily, and then balked slightly. With that, Benrey was fully naked before him, legs spread, faced flushed, eyes dark. Gordon licked his lips, trying to simultaneously take him all in and not look at him at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can check me out, it’s whatevs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, you might have to walk me through doing… this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh wow, Feetman’s never done it in the ass before wow I’m so shocked oh wow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up. How do I, uh… I don’t know where to start.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right here,” Benrey said, reaching between his legs towards his ass and tugging on something there--some kind of plastic base, which, as he pulled, slid out of him to reveal a bulbous sex toy. He set it aside, eyes on Gordon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god, how long have you had that in there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you, you keep me waiting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ, Benrey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just since this morning. Cleaned up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> be healthy. Wait--you had that </span>
  <em>
    <span>in </span>
  </em>
  <span>you during my intervention?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“S’fine.” Benrey sat up, gnawing on his lip and reaching for Gordon. “Been… Been so patient... I wanted you inside me for so long, Gordon…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Gordon hissed, cock twitching in his pants. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should, uh… You should. You should do that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon didn’t need any further encouragement, just removed his pants and boxers and crawled back onto the bed, between Benrey’s spread legs. The guard leaned in and Gordon closed the distance, kissing him hard and lining up with his entrance. Might as well, right? Why shouldn’t he take the nuclear option? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No going back from here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sank into Benrey without any more fanfare or hesitation, burying himself up to the hilt. Benrey groaned into his mouth, eyes shut, breath coming out in short bursts through his nose, and Gordon had to break the kiss to tell him that “</span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re so fucking tight.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey gave him an obnoxious, shaky peace sign at that. Gordon half considered pulling out and leaving, but Benrey hooked his legs over Gordon’s hips, pressed his heels against his back, and begged, </span>
  <em>
    <span>begged </span>
  </em>
  <span>for him to “fuck me, pleeease, Gordon, fuck me so hard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon rolled his hips experimentally, drawing a noise like a whine out of Benrey. The guard was anything but patient, rocking back onto him and trying to force Gordon to move, but Gordon wasn’t having it. He grabbed onto Benrey’s hips, stilling him, and ground to a halt inside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuuuucking why, why are you stopping?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Relax.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, I’m relaxed, got a cock up my butt, doesn’t get much more chill than that.” Benrey squeezed around him, and Gordon fought back a groan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean--I want to enjoy this. For more than a couple of minutes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you gonna blow your load already? Weaksauce.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This from the dude who came in his pants not five minutes ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whuh? I don’t remember that. Sounds like something you’d do though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon rolled his eyes and snapped his hips forward, drawing a satisfying, surprised noise out of Benrey. “Shut up or I won’t fuck you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shutting up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a minute, there was only the sound of skin on skin and their breathing, and then Benrey started talking again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, you uhhhh mind if I… you know… jerk off? Or is that too gay for this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Too g--Benrey, I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally </span>
  </em>
  <span>inside you right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah but is it </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>gay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus fucking--” Gordon cut himself off, releasing his grip on Benrey’s left hip in order to grasp his cock and stroke him. Benrey groaned, bucking his hips to meet him as Gordon completely lost the rhythm of his hips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel like I’m doing all the work here,” Gordon told him, and Benrey shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“S’what you get for being on top. Dude on top gotta do, uhh, all the work. Gotta take home some work too. Do some overtime. Work off the clock. Get that big ass-fucking promotion from the boss. Become CEO of--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you just put in a little effort?” Gordon groaned, starting to move his hips evenly again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I gotchu.” Benrey gripped Gordon’s hips between his legs and, with very little apparent effort, flipped them over. Gordon stared up at him and Benrey keened, getting accustomed to the new position, then began to ride him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck, that’s better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You still gotta give me some, uh, hand love,” Benrey said, guiding Gordon’s right hand back to his prick as he rode him. Gordon was more than a bit distracted by the visual of his cock sliding in and out of the guard, but managed to grasp him and stroke roughly in time with Benrey’s movements.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something about watching Benrey’s body move atop him was </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredibly </span>
  </em>
  <span>hot. Gordon groaned, glancing up to see Benrey’s dark, flushed face, and dropped his eyes back to where they were joined. His hand slowed and squeezed, and Benrey whined, lowering his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuuucking, Gordon, don’t…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanna kiss you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey groaned, leaning down halfway, and Gordon sat up to meet him, wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and pulled him closer. Benrey’s tongue slid into his mouth, sloppy and desperate, and Gordon blinked and found the guard staring straight at him, eyes hungry again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m getting close,” Gordon warned, when Benrey pulled his mouth away, riding him harder. “You might wanna--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cum inside, do it. Coward.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t call me a coward while we’re fucking,” Gordon groaned, voice strained.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“PANSY ASS.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For fuck’s sake,” Gordon growled, grabbing onto Benrey’s hips and bucking up to meet him. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey jolted and moaned, eyes going hazy. “Y-yeah, you’re gonna cum in friend Benrey, ain’tcha? Gonna, uhh, fill me up, cumsock style. Make me all nasty and dirty, mark me as yours… You can bite me if you wanna. Make sure everyone knows. Gonna, uh, quit my job, be your full time fuck toy. No questions asked. Don’t gotta pay me nothing. Just pay me in, uhh, cum. In my ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was among the top ten least sexy things anyone had ever said to Gordon, and yet it was riling him up like nothing else. “Cumming,” he warned, and then did just that as Benrey ground his hips on his lap. He bit his lip, holding tightly onto Benrey’s hips as he blew his load, and was only brought back to reality by Benrey’s loud lip smack.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you daddy Gorgor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Benrey--!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long til you can get it up again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, give me a minute…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you jack me off?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said gimme a minute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey didn’t move off his lap, just sat with Gordon’s cock inside him, staring and waiting. “So needy,” Gordon sighed, reaching out despite his sudden exhaustion to pump Benrey lazily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmmmnuuuuuh, no, not needy. Cool guy Benny doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>need </span>
  </em>
  <span>anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>need me to jerk you off? Or fuck you again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...I din’ say that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thought so,” Gordon murmured, squeezing the base of Benrey’s cock. “Maybe if you ask nicely I’ll suck you off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh? Gordon Cockgobbleman?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Offer rescinded.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pleeeeeease please suck me off, c’mon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Climb off,” Gordon ordered him, and Benrey did as he was told, sliding wetly off Gordon’s dick and crawling towards him on the bed. He stole a kiss, which Gordon returned, pushing him down against the pillows and then kissing his way down Benrey’s chest and belly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhh, hey, kind of… kind of homosexy of you, bro…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like that? You like my god body?” Benrey’s tone was joking, but Gordon nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Uh.” He looked like he’d been struck dumb. Gordon took advantage of his shocked silence to take his erection in his left hand and lick up the underside of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Haha, Gordon Fellatioman. You ever, mmmm, sucked cock before?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon shook his head and took the tip of Benrey’s prick into his mouth. How hard could it be? He bobbed his head forward a bit and gagged immediately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t laugh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘M not…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t even look at me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your, ummm,” lip smack, “inexperience… kinda hot…” Benrey wasn’t looking at him, focused instead on a point across the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, noted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Try, uh, squeeze your left thumb. In a fist. Gag reflex cheat code.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gordon took Benrey back into his mouth and did as he was told--and lo and behold, didn’t gag this time. Or at least not as much. He couldn’t take much of Benrey into his mouth, and instead stroked the rest of him in his fist, focusing on slobbering over the tip. Benrey groaned, fisting a hand in his hair, and Gordon could see him shaking with the effort of not thrusting into his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuuuuck, Gordon, you’re so hot. You know? You’re like, uh, Baywatch, babes runnin on the beach, slow motion, red swimsuit, shot on location, uhhh, fucking, sexier than that though. So good…!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Benrey gave no warning before releasing in his mouth, and Gordon gagged, cum dribbling past his lips. He didn’t want to just spit it on the sheets, but fuck, it was kind of gross, and he didn’t want to swallow either. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come… c’mere,” Benrey said, and Gordon crawled forward, grimacing. Benrey pulled him into another kiss, slipping his tongue into Gordon’s mouth and lapping out his own cum like some kind of revolting Hoover vacuum. Bad analogy, maybe, but he was trying really hard not to think about it too much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he pulled away, Benrey laid back against the pillows and stared at him so adoringly, it was downright sickening. “You… wanted to go again, right?” Gordon asked, laying down beside him. “I could probably--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanna snuggle,” Benrey said, cutting him off. Gordon bit back a smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Say please,” he said, teasingly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, daddy Gorgor, snuggle Benny--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now it’s a no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“UGH.” Benrey flopped, rolling over to smash his face into the pillow. “FINE,” he said, muffled, but still loud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come here,” Gordon said, opening his arms, and Benrey lifted his head and scooted over to grab onto him. “Too tight,” Gordon warned, and Benrey let up a little bit, relaxing against him. Gordon sighed deeply, closing his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was nice. It was kind of too easy to fall asleep just like that. Benrey snuggled closer and kissed his cheek, and Gordon murmured sleepily at him, not bothering to open his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the morning, he was sure he would awaken sticky and sweaty and uncomfortable, but for now, it was fine. Benrey made a familiar little noise, the sound of Sweet Voice, and Gordon didn’t have to open his eyes to know what color it was. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pink to blue means I think I love you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Night, Gordon,” Benrey murmured, dragging a blanket over them both.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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